Beware the Pumpkin King
by InzanityFirez
Summary: Halloween is just around the corner, but there's no cause to celebrate. A wish gone awry leaves Dean and Sam with their ages swapped and then some, a wish that becomes permanent on Hallow's Eve.  It's up to Sam and John to save Dean.  Teenchesters!
1. The Old Irish Lullabye

**So, I had this idea anyway, but I went ahead and threw in Halloween themes to make it seasonal. And because I couldn't fully decide between pure De-Aging, body-swapping, or age-swapping...it'll be age-swapping-ish [possibly with slow mental de-aging/re-aging], and there'll be a bonus, one-shot chapter at the end with some either body-swapping, or 'life' swapping of our favorite Winchester boys 3 Hopefully I do the concept justice, because all these de-aging fictions with little Sam or Dean talking baby talk scare the crap out of me. XD I dunno, I guess the idea of them being babies is strange to me, unless they have their adult minds, which probably makes ME strange. Baby talk just freaks me out. _ But I digress! XD Weechesters, unite!~ P.S. I think I got the date right...Dean=17, Sammy=13?**

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_October, 1996_

Sunny skies, fresh air, and the promise of a date with a bombshell named Jessica Lynch at the big Halloween Bash. Some block-party affair that was considered a big deal in this sleepy town. Things were looking up. Well, until the incident that had earned seventeen-year old Dean Winchester his thirteen-year old brother's ire.

"I can't believe you, Dean! What were you thinking?"

Dean rolled his eyes as he walked alongside his twerp of a brother, although admittedly, he'd done some considerable growing the past year or so. "Uh, gee. Maybe that some dickbag was picking on my little brother and I should kick his ass for it?"

Sam shot his older brother a seething look. "I told you to leave it alone!"

Dean's lifted a brow. "Yeah, thanks for that, boss-man." Humor and sarcasm laced his tone till he grew a bit more serious. "...I don't get why you're so pissed. You're the one that's all 'no fighting in front of civilians'. That ain't my problem. Me keeping my little brother from getting wailed on, is."

"I had it handled, Dean. You know we're supposed to keep low profiles. And now, thanks to you, everyone's gonna think I'm some sissy who needs his brother to come to his rescue. "

"Well...ya kinda are.." Dean said with a faint grin that faded as Sam shot him a baleful look and moved to walk ahead. "Sammy, come on...don't be like that, man." Yeah, Sam's attitude was pissing him off, but he didn't like Sam being genuinely angry at him. What was he supposed to do though? Just let Sam get his butt kicked 'cause he didn't like to fight in front of civilians? A phrase borrowed from John Winchester, and sure-Dean got the idea, but that didn't mean that Sam needed to take a punch for it. Or do his little side-stepping routine and just end up with more idiots after him.

Dean and Sam were spending a few weeks in the sleepy little town of Ashbury, somewhere in Connecticut while their dad worked a case. Dean was attending Loftland High, while Sam was attending the basically right-next-door Ashton Middle School. Being that it was a small town, everyone's kid brothers and sisters attended that middle school, and all their older Icounterparts attended the high school. Nothing went on at either school that the other school didn't hear about. Such as the eighth-grade dickwad Lenny Markowitz picking a fight with his little brother. Dean had shown up and crashed the party, knocked out Lenny's older brother Travis, and his cousin Daniel, before putting-without laying a hand on him-the fear of Dean into Lenny. All in all, he'd done good.

Well, he thought so, at least.

"Sam...Sam, come on!" he caught up to his little brother and set a hand on his shoulder as he forced the other to face him. Sam glared up at him and he sighed as Sam shrugged off his hand and crossed his arms. "Dude...look...what do you want me to say? I wasn't gonna just let you get hurt."

"I'm not a kid, Dean! I don't need you to fight my battles."

"I'm not sayin' you're a _kid_. But you are _my_ little brother."

"So what?"

"What do you mean, 'so what'? So I'm not gonna let you get hurt." Dean gave his little brother a _duh_ look, and he shook his head in growing exasperation as Sam only seemed more irritated by his response.

"I can take care of myself."

"That right? Well too damn bad. 'Cause taking care of your bitchy ass is my job." Dean hoped that putting in that little 'bitch' endearment [recently promoted from 'brat' to 'bitch', in fact] would alleviate some of Sam's wrath. But instead, the boy just shot him a death glare and stormed ahead again. "Don't worry, Sam," he called, annoyed, "I don't blame you, you can't help just hitting puberty. PMS is a given."

Sam, in a move that impressed Dean even as it made him want to throttle his unusually snarky little brother, flipped him off and kept walking.

Dean fought the urge to smile as he shook his head and followed his brother back to the motel.

...

"You sure you'll be alright? You were a little...moody earlier."

"I'm _fine_, Dean. Just go on your little date." Sam made a shooing motion.

Dean had already planned a little 'alone time' with Jessica for the night, and then Saturday would mark Halloween, and the day of the big Halloween bash. Sam had already been invited to a...'young adult gathering', so he'd be covered there.

Dean frowned as he stared down at his little brother. Even now, several hours later, Sam's agitation hadn't eased up, really. And now, he was reluctant to leave. "Sammy..."

"Just go! Really, it's fine. Please go." Sam just wanted to be by himself for a bit anyway. Not to mention, his brother's hovering was going to drive him to fratricide.

Dean looked uncertain, because unlike most boys his age, his first instinct wasn't to ditch his brother and go off on his date. It was all protective, big brother instinct baring it's proverbial hackles.

"_Dean_. If you don't go, I will find a gun, and I will shoot you." Sam tried to sound more exasperated than angry, which he was at that point.

Dean's lips quirked but it didn't quite reach his eyes as he set his hand on Sam's head and ruffled Sam's hair, which he tolerated if only because he thought it might encourage Dean to leave. "Sammy, I..." he trailed off and struggled with his words a split second before he lowered his hand. "Be careful, squirt. Call if-"

Sam resisted the urge to punch his brother at the nickname. "-if I need anything, or if anything happens, you'll ring twice," John would ring once, "Got it, Dean. I'm good."

There was approval in his expression but Dean still hesitated a moment before he nodded. "Alright then. Later, kiddo." Dean left before he could see Sam bristle at the comment.

As he left though, Dean was already making mental notes to keep his phone close at hand just in case. And he'd go ahead and make sure the date wasn't too long, not that they ever were. Sam had always been a little moody, but the past week or so, he'd been an out and out piece of work. Dean had tried to divine the problem, tried every sneaky little tactic that he could think of, but Sam had just been...difficult. And then today, he'd gone and blown his top. Dean had snuck a silver spoon in with breakfast, and even a touch of holy water to his water, just in case...but Sam was Sam. So he couldn't figure out what the problem was, and that was both rare and troubling. He was Sammy's big brother, it was his damned _job_ to know his little brother inside and out.

Well, Sam could just try and keep it a secret. Dean would figure it out and fix it. He always did...

When Dean was _finally_ gone, Sam sighed and slumped in his chair. It had been a long day, and Dean wasn't helping. He knew, he really did, that Dean meant well. But Sam was tired of being treated like a kid, and tired of his own physical troubles. Sam was finally having a growth spurt, but for his age, he was still pretty small and the other kids let him know it. Dean teasing his size had been okay once, just brotherly crap. But since Sam had skipped the genetic phase of maturity that his classmates had reached at least a year prior, it wasn't so tolerable. Now it was just like pouring salt into a wound, insult to injury. A reminder.

A reminder of the fact that Dean had already been hunting [sort of] by his age, and John stuck to research mainly with Sam. He took it to mean that John didn't think he was capable, both physically and just...in general. And with all that he did for their crazy family, that rankled. Sam hated being different, being a 'freak', but he still did his best for the Winchester family and it just didn't seem to matter. He never did _enough_. So even though he knew that Dean meant well...his 'babying' Sam just drove the point home further and made it seem like neither Dean nor their father thought he was capable. It made him feel useless, underappreciated, and...well, if he didn't belong with normal people, and he didn't belong with his own family then...well, where did he belong?

...

A neon sign flickered overhead, two of the letters were completely dimmed, and there was a stale, acrid scent in the air like burnt rubber. Ashbury was a decent enough place, but every place had it's...questionable areas, and didn't it just figure that, as usual, that's where their motel was? But seedy areas meant less questions and less attention, so it was convenient even as it was a bit...unsavory.

Sam had a knife in his pocket, just in case, but he wasn't too concerned. It was ten p.m. or so, and he was confident that he could take care of himself. Whether or not Dean or John thought he was ready to hunt, Sam had definitely been trained hard enough to take on a 'civilian', at least. Sam just needed to get out, get some air, that sort of thing.

There was a small park in a lot half a block from the motel with a crappy little playground set up. But rusted up or not, the idea of just...sitting in a swing and taking a moment to himself was appealing so that was where he set off. The playground area was partially concealed beside a brick-wall that separated a little grilling area, and as he passed the wall-he saw a man on the swingset just before he heard the singing.

"_Tura lura lural...tura lura lie...tura lura lural...hush now, don't you cry..._" The words were sung with a lilting Irish accent and a bit slurred, courtesy no doubt of the whiskey held loosely in the man's hand, but still...the song was almost...haunting. He was leaned heavily against the chain of the swing, and he appeared to be asleep but for the singing until his eyes, visible beneath the dim park-light above, found Sam's own startled ones.

"A wee bit late, innit? Fer a wee lad to be about?" The man took a long swig of whiskey as he eyed Sam, who let his hand fall cautiously to his pocket where the knife was. Running wasn't good-it might incite the man to chase him. Best to just calmly get away, defuse the situation and-

"I'm not a 'wee lad'. I'm thirteen. I'm a teenager." Sam heard his own voice, huffy and a bit lofty, and he was surprised at himself. Now why had he gone and said that?

"Issat right?" The man eyed him before he motioned to the swing beside him. "Well, I'm justa tired old fella, meself. But ye look weary too, so pull up a swing, eh?"

Sam recognized the Irish accent, but the dialect was...a bit outdated, if he didn't miss his mark. And by this point, all kinds of alarms should have been going off in his head, but instead he found himself drawing closer to the other, and standing at the edge of the swingset. The man wore rather ragged clothes, a bit outdated as well, and a plaid-design hat hung low over his face. He had a bit of scruff and appeared to be in his forties or so, well-kept, all things considered.

The man smiled, a bit ruefully, but his tone was kind as he spoke. "Aye, best to stay a bit back...good sense, that is. But I be meaning ye no harm. Truly, I am more enemy to myself than ye."

Sam wasn't sure what to say to that, but he was spared a response as the man continued after another swig of whiskey.

"Somethin's a'troublin' ye. Tell ole Jacky wot's the matter."

Sam hesitated a moment, but as he found the man's pale, blue eyes on his own, he felt compelled to speak. "It's...my brother...and my Dad...just, everything..."

"Aye?"

"...They just...like today, my brother knocked two kids out and harrassed another, just because they wanted to fight me. I told him not to but he never listens, he just keeps treating me like a kid...Dad's the same way, they don't trust me. They don't even give me a chance. And I'm just...tired of not growing up...it's bad enough being in my family, but especially when I can't...measure up." Sam had never said it so bluntly before, Heck, he wasn't sure he'd ever thought it so clearly. But he found himself saying so all the same, and wasn't it true?

'Jacky' paused to consider that a moment before he murmured. "Issit really s'bad? Havin' a family'at cares?"

"...I don't know if 'cares' is the right word..." That was harsh, and probably not even true and he knew it...but it was hard to feel loved when he was being smothered. He didn't want to be carried around like a burden, he wanted to be brought around because he _mattered_.

"'An y'think if you got growed up, that'd solve yer problems, eh, lad?"

"Anything would be better than this." Sam found himself saying. He wasn't even sure how he felt about it all, actually, but he'd thought so before.

Jacky took another swig before he rose to his feet. Sam had thought him drunk, but he moved easily, almost too smoothly for a man his age. Jacky slipped the bottle into his long cloak and removed an odd little trinket from his pocket that, if he was seeing right, appeared to be a glowing...turnip?

"Yer a good lad. Ye got a shine to ye, brighter than anything I seen in...years. Bit tarnished though, wot with all yer sad thinkin'. Be a shame if you lost yer spark. I'll tell ye this," he said as he drew himself to his full height and gazed down at Sam with a bitter little smile that was, nonetheless, kind. "Family's got more worth than all the world. Best remember that." Jacky tossed his glowing turnip into the air and caught it without so much as a glance, and as he did-

-Sam's vision faded to black as all sense left him.

...

"Sammy...Sam...Sam! Open your damn eyes!"

Sam felt his body being shaken and he groaned as Dean's voice rumbled from above him. He sounded panicked. Was it time for school already? But why would that make Dean panic? His eyes cracked open and found Dean's anxious face above him, illuminated by the street lights above. The park was several feet away, and he was lying back-down on the pavement.

Dean slid an arm around his back and lifted him, and Sam's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what had happened. "Dean...what...?"

"Are you alright? What happened, Sam?"

"I...don't know..?"

Dean's brow furrowed. "You don't know? What do you remember? Were you attacked? It's like two in the morning, I've been calling for hours, man."

"Two?" Six hours had gone by? What the Hell? Lucidity began to slowly return to Sam as he pulled forward and out of his brother's grasp. Sam rubbed his head before facing his now angry-rather-than-anxious brother. "I went for a walk."

"You went for a walk." Dean repeated, and he seemed almost stunned by the easy simplicity of that statement.

"Yeah, I went for a walk. That's not a crime." Sam muttered as he tried to piece together what exactly had happened.

"No, but it's definitely stupid. What were you thinking?"

Sam's gaze flicked to Dean's as annoyance flared and he leaned away from Dean's arm. "It was a _walk_, Dean. It's not a big deal. You're the one who left me to go out with some floozy."

Dean's earlier patience was gone as his jaw visibly clenched and the brothers stared each other down a moment before Dean lifted and jerked Sam up by the arm.

"Ow, hey! Let go of me!" he tugged his arm away and glared up at Dean. "What's your problem?"

"My _problem_? I came back and you were _gone_. No note, no answer on your phone. Do you have any idea how freaked I was, dude? I thought something happened!"

Guilt welled up in Sam at those words. He knew better than to go off, but he'd done it anyway. And for Dean to be that blunt about it, well, he had been more than freaked, he'd been worried. "I didn't mean to be gone so long, I don't what happened...I went for a walk, and then I woke up with you...I swear, I wasn't trying to mess with you, Dean. I just needed to...clear my head."

Dean's frustration ebbed a little at that, but his anger hadn't quite quelled. "You think..I dunno, something got to you? Or, I dunno...some people just pass out, right?"

"I don't have narcolepsy, Dean."

"Yeah, well...narco-whatever or not...something's up if you're telling me you've been passed out this whole time in the middle of the damn sidewalk."

Sam didn't have an explanation for it, or a good answer, but he was spared needing to as Dean began scanning the area. He took a few steps towards the park and examined the area a bit more, but his search turned up nothing and set his hand on Sam's back to push him forward a bit. "If something did mess with ya, it's gone now. How do you feel?"

"I feel fine. Pretty good, actually." Sam noted as he flexed his hands a bit and focused on his body. But really, he felt fine.

Dean watched his brother for a moment as he considered it before he gave a brief nod as he set a hand on Sam's back to push him forward in the direction of the motel. "Let's get back to the motel. " No sense in standing outside trying to figure out the issue.

"Alright." Sam agreed, and he let Dean keep his hand there for the time being. He wasn't letting the grown-up thing go, not by a long shot, but he did feel guilty for scaring Dean like that. That wasn't okay. A pain sometimes or not, Dean was still his big brother, and Sam didn't like...to worry him. Which tied in to his wanting to be a more equal member of the team: a better partner for Dean, and for their father.

If only, right?

...

Back at the motel, Dean's attentions began anew.

"Knock it off!"

"Just lemme see!"

"I'm fine!"

"Well, then I won't see anything, will I?" Dean griped back as he man-handled his brother a bit in order to peel off his jacket and then lift his shirt to check for any possible disturbances. Bites, bruises, marks, that sort of stuff. Sam had refused to do so willingly, so Dean had taken it upon himself to enforce his big brother rights and see for himself. Maybe it was a little overkill, but he couldn't be too careful. Sam had been being...bitchier than usual, and then he'd apparently passed out in the middle of dead-endsville, so something was up. But one very agitated little brother later-there was nothing visible, and he wasn't about to yank his little brother's pants off-nor would a monster likely have, in his experience. Also, just in case something _had_ gotten to Sam, he could make sure that this was his Sammy.

"All clean." Dean announced as he released his squirming little brother, who promptly socked him in the stomach.

Dean winched and doubled-over somewhat, _damn_, the kid hit hard.

A flushed Sam jerked away and shot Dean a fierce glare as he tugged his shirt down and snatched up his jacket. "You can't just...jerk me around because you're bigger!"

"Yeah? Apparently I can, 'cuz I just did." Dean growled as he rubbed his offended stomach and decided he'd let his brother off for it-this time. Mostly because he felt a bit bad about rough-handling him, but he'd had to make sure just in case it _was _something supernatural playing in his brother's skin. Could never be too careful. And Dad would kick his ass if he missed something like that-actually, if he let Sam get hurt at all-he was so screwed. But he had no intention of letting his brother get hurt-ever-so there wasn't a problem. "Big brother rights and all that. Sorry, squirt." he shrugged as though it couldn't be helped. "You'll get over it."

Sam's fists clenched at his sides. "You're...a dick."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You wanna run that by me again?"

Sam hesitated slightly before he jutted his chin out defiantly. "You heard me."

Dean's jaw clenched slightly before he growled. "Just go to bed, Sam. I'm tired, man, I'll kick your ass tomorrow if it makes you feel better."

"If we did fight, I might win, you know." Sam pointed out.

Dean lifted a brow as he let an all-too-infuriating smirk curve his lips as he deliberately mussed Sam's hair and pushed it down a bit to emphasize the height difference. "Sure, kiddo, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Sam flashed his brother a glare as he pulled away. For a moment, the brothers stared at each other, and Dean's gaze was almost challenging, daring Sam to do something. But in the end, the younger Winchester turned away and headed to his bed in silence where he promptly curled up and went straight for sleeping. Or rather, angrily lying there and contemplating the consequences of spiking Dean's food with laxatives.

Dean watched his brother's every move with a smug expression that was entirely for show and faded the moment that Sam stopped looking. He wasn't sure what had crawled up Sam's ass and died, but his brother's growing attitude, particularly in the past few days, was wearing on him. Fighting with his little brother in fun was fine, and Heck, the occasional spats and stuff were normal enough. But fights like these? And over stuff like Dean having Sam's back? What the Hell was up with that? They were _brothers_. And more importantly, Dean was Sammy's big brother. Dean's job was to watch out for Sam, hadn't their father even always said so?

Dean didn't think of Sam as a kid, contrary to his popular belief. Truth be told, he thought Sam was some kind of amazing. A Hell of a lot smarter than Dean had been at that age, and nearly as good a shot and fighter. Grade A kick-ass material. He was a sharp kid and Dean was proud of him. But he did think of Sam as his kid brother, his to protect and watch out for, and that wouldn't change no matter how old Sam got.

So when had Sammy stopped seeing it that way?

Dean tried to push the thoughts from his mind as he slid into bed and switched off the light. He could try and brainstorm this crap in the morning [and possibly 'kick' Sammy's ass]. Nothing like a good brotherly brawl, right? But that was morning's problem. Tonight? Dean was going to sleep and dream of all those new tricks with whip-cream Jessica Lynch had taught him.

And the one's he'd taught _her_.

Oh, yeah, Dean Winchester infinity, chicks of the world, zero.

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**So...Sam's a little pissy right now. Like...uber pissy. But I think they're still in character. And really, is a pissy teen [especially with Sammy's angst-that unusual?] XD And correctly time-placed. Hopefully. XD I'm trying to have this fic finished by Halloween. So that's why I'm pushing a bit and you have thing long-ish and somewhat bunchy first-chapter. By the by, Tura Lura Lural is an Irish lullabye. /watch?v=aw9B49epS_M here's a lovely version by Bing Crosby. Props to anyone who can guess our mystery man, who I have tweaked a bit for my purposes. XD Next chapter: The 'fun' begins. Poor Dean. And John will be showing up in time to get in on the action...eventually. XD Enjoy! And leave me verbal hugs and favorites and such, because they bring intense joy to my soul. Especially when I'm at work and I find them on my phone during break. XD -Witchy~**


	2. Growing up in Reverse

**Thank you, thank you, thank you SOO MUCH for your reviews, faves, and alerts. Today would have been miserable-were it not for your kindnesses. XD And wow, I just had a melt-down in the form of my father who hasn't talked to me in a year calling me up just to tell me off about a perceived slight against him [that doesn't exist-but damn facebook for the confusion anyway]. Long story short, he told me to take a hike last year and is now calling and wanting me back to visit in the same breath as telling me off for no reason. Which is none of your problems, and unrelated to this story, except that I am now in a really upset mood. Which might color my writing, which I was previously excited about. But I'll try and keep it swell, since I really want to post. By the by, I edited the first chapter the night I posted this to clean up some errors and extend some scenes/enhance them because I felt that they were woefully inadequate. This may or may not be what you've read already-so, just so ya know.~**

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_"Dean...it hurts..." Nine-year old Sam moaned. Beside him, a thirteen-year old Dean gripped his brother's arm tightly. _

_"I know, Sammy, but just hold on, 'kay? Count to three, and then I'll do it...one, two-" Dean jerked the boy's arm back into it's socket before the count finished and Sam screamed before he collapsed against Dean with a sob. _

_They were together in a cramped motel room, recovering after the thing their father had been hunting had started hunting them and in the ensuing escape-Sam's arm had gotten yanked and twisted. Luckily-if one could call it that-it just needed a good tug back in. _

_Dean held the trembling, sobbing boy in his arms and he stroked his hair as he murmured praise. "You did real good, Sam. You're a tough kid. S'why you're such a cool little brother. Well, when you aren't being such a girl." he teased lightly._

_Sure enough, a little bit of laughter bubbled into Sam's sobs as he clung to his brother, head rested against his chest and small arms gripping his stomach for dear-life. He'd been terrified, knocked down and in pain until Dean had grabbed him and their father had covered them as he'd ushered them inside. Their father had killed the thing, but he was patrolling just in case, trusting Sam to Dean's care in the cover of the motel room._

_"How ya feelin', buddy?" _

_"M'okay." Sam whispered against Dean's chest as he nuzzled into the other's shirt with a sniff._

_"Dude, if you get snot on me, I'm gonna be pissed." _

_Sam giggled a bit and purposefully nuzzled into Dean's shirt-although he didn't get snot on him-as he kept close. His big brother was warm, and strong, and familiar. Safe. Dean wouldn't let anything real bad happen to him, he'd take care of him. Because he was Sam's big brother. He was a hero, just like their dad, even if he didn't think so. Sam knew, so it was okay. As long as Sam knew, then he could remind Dean too._

_"Thanks, Dean." Sam said softly. _

_"Don't sweat it, Sammy." Dean said, his tone softening as he ruffled Sam's messy hair. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on you." _

_"Glad it's you." Sam murmured as his eyes closed and let himself slowly slumber against the other._

_"You're such a girly brat, Sam." Dean said after a moment, but his tone was laced with affection as his arms slid around Sam and he held the other close, lightly stroking the other's hair with a free hand. _

_"Jerk." Sam replied sleepily. "Love you, Dean." _

_"Love you too, Sammy." Dean murmured back, a faint smile on his lips. Yeah, maybe it was a little girly, but that was okay. Sammy was his baby brother, and he'd just gone through a lot, so...yeah, totally okay. _

_Sam fell asleep huddled up on top of Dean, and Dean with his arms around his little brother, and they slept that way long past when John arrived to see his sons with a rare smile..._

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Sam's eyes opened to darkness and for a moment, he struggled to catch his mind up to his position. He'd just been nine, cuddled up against his big brother...bu no, that was a dream, which meant... Oh yeah, he was in bed. And he must have woken up before his alarm, because it was still dark and Dean was still asleep-made obvious by the fact that he wasn't singing some obnoxious wake-up song or hogging all the hot water. His eyes slid groggily to the clock at the beside table that gleamed in red-lettering, _6:00am_. Just a half an hour early, no problem.

He yawned and rubbed at his eyes as he forced himself to lumber to his feet, swaying a bit as he made his way to the bathroom with his eyes half-lidded. Sam wasn't a morning person or anything, but he was feeling oddly tired...and something else was wrong: his clothes were...really tight. He tugged at the sleeve of a shirt to try to assuage the feeling of his circulation being cut off as he flicked on the bathroom light and dragged himself up to the mirror.

And promptly screamed.

"Dean!" Sam's voice was terrified, and also several octaves lower than it had been just the night before.

Staring back at him in the mirror was a stranger. A tall, fairly muscular, and shaggy-haired stranger whose eyes widened when his did, whose mouth opened to shout his brother's name, and who was currently mimicking his every move. It was really his reflection, and a kick pinch to his circulation-challenged arm proved that it wasn't a dream.

How was this not a dream?

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was muffled, presumably by his bed-spread items and the bathroom door being shut but despite that, Sam could hear in his brother's shouted reply his instant concern, and...that it wasn't Dean's throaty voice at all, it wasn't unfamiliar either, it was just...no way, it couldn't be possible.

"What the _Hell_." There was the sound of something clattering to the floor, and Dean's youthful voice was stunned and horrified, and Sam had a good idea of what he was about to see before he even opened the door.

There, on the other side and staring up at Sam with all-too familiar green-eyes, was a freckle-faced boy swamped in his own clothes that he recognized instantly as his brother Dean. Even so, with his throat now dry, he croaked. "Dean?"

"S-Sammy?" There was a slight hitch in Dean's voice as he struggled to speak against his surprise and his faint panic.

Dean had woken up to his brother shouting like he was terrified, and then he'd tried to get out of bed and stumbled all over himself and clothes that had fit perfect the night before and now bundled about him. Next thing he knew, the door had opened to reveal a stranger in his brother's clothes, and who knew his name. And even though the pieces fit and it clicked together in his mind who this had to be, he just couldn't believe it. Before the other could reply to the name, his eyes narrowed. "Who the Hell are you? What'id you do to me, and where's Sam? If he's hurt, I swear I'll-"

"Dean, it's me!" Sam's voice was almost a desperate squeak at that moment. "I _am _Sam." the boy-turned-man looked down at himself and bit his lower lip. "I don't understand how this happened...how could this happen?" there was a rising note of panic in his own voice.

Dean watched the other male and truly, despite his desire _not_ to have it be true, he knew this was Sam. How could it not be? Dean was a friggen kid again, it almost made sense-in their crazy life-that Sam was therefore...not.

Besides. Who but Sam could grow up and _still _sound like such a girl? Kinda looked like one too, with all that mess of hair.

Still, seeing his brother's agitation didn't sit well with him and he took a few shaky steps forward as he tried to deal with the issue of walking while in now too-big clothes as he made it over to Sam. He reached his hand up to the other's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "We'll figure it out, how ya feeling, dude?" Yeah, Dean was pretty panicked too, but he was used to supernatural crap [although never something like this] but mostly...Sam was in whatever this was, and he had to be strong if only for him.

"I'm f-fine." Sam's reply was terse and he faintly stammered as he looked..._down_ at his big brother. That alone was enough to send him into a sort of panic. Stuff like this didn't happen. Fangs, sure, witches, yeah, ghosts, _definitely_, but...this? He saw a funny look cross Dean's face at his reply, but he couldn't read it before Dean patted his shoulder and moved past him to the bathroom. He watched his brother stumble once as he tripped on his own pants and sympathy stirred alongside the panic. Whatever this was-Dean had apparently gotten the short end of the stick.

He swallowed hard as he followed Dean into the bathroom, and stood behind his now-little big brother as he gazed at himself in the mirror, prodding at his face and tugging at the skin under his eyes as if to confirm it was real. Sam let his gaze fall on the mirror as well, at his reflection and despite himself, he was a little fascinated. He'd been worried he'd be small all his life but...he might even be taller than Dean at this point, just maybe.

Brown eyes met green in the mirror as he realized that Dean was looking up at Sam in his reflection. Their sudden height difference was made glaringly obvious as they stood together, Dean was at least half a foot shorter now. Dean's lips were drawn tight and his earlier panic had been replaced by a tense frustration.

Sam resisted the urge to touch his brother, to verify that this wasn't a dream and see if that green-eyed boy before him was really his brother-and that Sam was really...this. But he was pretty sure that it was real, and that he'd be risking his brother's wrath if he did something like that right now. "How are..._you_ feeling?" he chanced.

Dean's jaw tightened before he growled. "I'm a friggen midget, how do you _think_ I feel?"

"Sorry I asked." Sam muttered in reply, a bit put off by that. Sam was shorter at Dean's age than he was, at all...which, wait... Sam took a moment to examine Dean closely, and as he glanced at his reflection... "Dean! I think...we traded ages..."

"'Scuse me?"

"I mean...look at us...this is about what you looked like at thirteen, right? And I must be around your age, seventeen-almost eighteen..."

Dean considered Sam's words as he glanced at the mirror again and then his eyes narrowed up at Sam as he whirled around. "What are you saying?"

Sam was a bit startled by his brother's almost suspicious look. "N-Nothing, just noticing...Dean, you don't think this is my fault, do you?"

"You tell me."

Sam's sympathy withered a bit at that. "How would I...even if I could, _why_ would I?"

"Dunno, you were pretty pissed yesterday. And all that 'I'm not a kid' crap...and now this? Just saying-"

"Just saying what, Dean? That I waved my magic wand and made us flip? And it's not crap, I'm not a kid!"

Dean eyed him a moment more before he lifted his hands in surrender. "Fine. You didn't do it. That means we need to find out who did." he moved past Sam and to his bag, where he began rifling through his clothes for something...small enough-damn it-to wear.

Sam was once again reminding of his own wardrobe malfunction. His shirt was digging into his arms around the sleeves and the shirt itself had gone pretty skin tight, his pants had actually torn a little. Nothing he had was going to fit him anymore. Sam toyed with the edge of his shirt before he started reluctantly. "Dean-"

A pair of pants and a black t-shirt were tossed at Sam, along with a pair of boxers and socks. "Wear those till we can get something else." Dean didn't look back at Sam as he continued his own shirt, but Sam just stared at Dean for a moment.

His big brother had already anticipated his needs, and been thinking about them despite the situation. Typical Dean. Whether he was worse for wear or not, he was always...looking out for Sam. It was part of the problem, really. Dean could be bleeding out and he'd still be trying to make sure Sam, and John-if he were around-were okay before he'd start giving a damn about himself and it was frustrating. Sam cared for Dean every bit as much as Dean cared for him, he just wasn't always able to show it as well.

Sam looked down at the clothes in his grasp. His big brother's clothes. He padded over to the bathroom to change and emerged a couple of minutes later in his brother's clothes which fit him well enough. Dean's shoulders were maybe a little broader, and Sam really did suspect that he might be taller, but it worked.

Dean had changed into a different shirt, smaller, but not that small and it still hung a bit loosely on him. He'd found no substitute for his pants, however. As Sam entered, he finally turned and eyed the other a moment before he inclined his head. "Fit alright?" he muttered gruffly.

"Yeah, they're great...it's kinda weird wearing your boxers, but yeah..." And Sam had worn them, if only out of necessity, but somehow-wearing all of his brothers clothes was almost...cool. Once he'd gotten past the initial shock, Sam really was a bit fascinated with his current form.

But as he watched his brother pull away from his bag without any suitable pants, he mostly just felt bad, and even a little guilty. It wasn't his fault they'd swapped ages or anything, but Dean had to be feeling pretty miserable. Sam withdrew his biggest pair of jeans, ones that were slightly baggy on him, and a pair of his own socks and boxers as he headed over to Dean and set them on the bed beside him. "You can borrow-" he started, before Dean jerked away.

"I am _not_ wearing my _little brother's _anything." Dean growled.

Sam couldn't really be offended by that, he knew his big brother wasn't slighting him. He was just...Dean. "It's either borrow my stuff, or walk around with no pants, your call." he said softly.

Dean seemed to wince at Sam's soft tone and he avoided Sam's gaze as he mulled it over before he reluctantly took the offered clothes. "Thanks, Sammy." he muttered as he moved past the other and headed to the bathroom. It wasn't like changing in front of each other was a big deal, but neither brother was exactly comfortable in his own skin at the moment.

When he emerged, Sam had to swallow down the odd clench in his gut at the sight of his shrunken brother wearing his clothes. It wasn't just his size, Dean seemed...smaller, glum and more vulnerable and...was this how Dean felt on a regular basis looking at Sam? Just the size difference was enough to make him a little anxious on the other's behalf.

Dean rubbed his arm awkwardly and avoided Sam's gaze at first. Unlike Sam, he was _not_ okay with this situation. This was all wrong. He was Sam's big brother, he wasn't a kid, and there was no reason he should be able to comfortably wear _Sammy's_ clothes. But here he was, and it put a sinking feeling in his stomach like no other, especially with Sam trying to be all gentle about it. Plus, Sam kept staring at him, and that just made him feel even worse.

"Hey..Dean...look at this." Sam noticed something on the nightstand and after examining them, held up I.D.s for Dean's inspection...they were Dean and Sam with their current pictures. Sam's was an I.D. that labeled his birthdate correctly, but the wrong year, _Dean's_ year. And Dean had a school I.D. from...Ashton Middle School that read 'Eighth Grade' in yellow-block lettering.

"What the Hell?" Dean gritted his teeth. "Is this someone's idea of a joke? '_Cause I'm not laughing_."

Sam examined his own I.D. again before something occurred to him. "Maybe we should...go to school."

Dean shot him a blank look, one that said he was too stunned by Sam's moronic words to even be properly angered by them. "To to school?" he repeated incredulously. "Uh, Sam, I hate to break it to you...but now isn't really the time..."

"I'm serious, Dean...maybe we have these for a reason? Maybe if we go, we'll figure out what's going on."

"You want me...to go to a middle school...because you think...whatever the Hell did this wants us to get a good education?"

Sam huffed a bit in annoyance. "I'm not saying _that_. But why make you a school I.D. and me a regular one if we weren't supposed to go? Do you have any better ideas?"

Dean's sudden silence suggested not and Sam made a _well there you go _gesture. "So, we'll go to school, and-"

"I'm not going." Dean crossed his arms. "No way in Hell."

"Dean-"

"I said _no_." Dean growled. "I'm not a damn kid! We'll figure this out like _hunters_. We don't play into some baddie's hands whether it wants us at school or not!"

Sam eyed his brother a moment before he rose. "I'm going, Dean, you coming or not?"

Dean's eyes widened slightly before he stepped in front of Sam and glared up at him. "The Hell you are, you're staying right here until-"

Sam's arm found Dean's shoulder as he pushed past the other and headed over to Dean's shoes. His feet were a bit bigger than Dean's, that much was for sure, but he had already gotten them both on by the time Dean stormed over.

"Sam-"

"-Dean, we have no better ideas right now. What's it going to hurt?" Sam met his brother's gaze evenly. He didn't want to be a jerk, btu he meant it about them maybe finding a clue...and maybe it had something to do with being intrigued by going to school like this, but-

"We're staying here. We'll call Dad, and we'll do some research, and-"

Sam rose, and he stood before Dean in all of his newly-heightened glory as he looked down at the other, and he saw Dean do that little almost-wince again as he was forced to stare up at his little brother. "I'm going, Dean. Come with me...please?" he didn't want to fight with his brother, and he didn't want leave Dean alone, truth be told. So he was willing to at least make it sound more like Dean was doing him a favor and spare his pride a bit.

Dean's jaw clenched and unclenched before he growled out. "Fine. But you owe me for this. Big time. Because don't think I don't know why you really wanna go out. And it's only gonna happen 'cause I'm not letting you go around alone."

Sam thought it had more to do with Dean not being able to actually stop him, but he was grateful anyway. He hesitated and then set his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean scrunched his nose a bit and shrugged off Sam's shoulder as he reluctantly headed over to Sam's shoes. "Yeah, yeah. But don't forget, you owe me, bitch." Dean grumbled.

Sam smiled faintly, and tried to ignore the odd slither of foreboding that found it's way into his stomach as he watched his older brother forced to put on Sam's shoes. There was something he was missing here, and he was sure of it, but he couldn't place it. Maybe the situation was just getting to him...? "Yeah, yeah, jerk, I know."

Sam owed his brother for a lot more than this.

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**Sorry if it ended poorly, I dunno how the last bit turned out. I woke up early to try and finish 'cuz I passed out last night and I've got to post this up like...now, before I'm late for work. Thanks astir-I can't remember your screenname exactly and I don't have time to look but you gave me my first actual verbal hug as a verbal hug, so yes. XD You pwn. You other reviewers and favers and such, I adore you endlessly, and you rock my world. P.S. Dean still has more de-aging to do, and Sam more growing up, so don't worry! XD -Witchy~**


	3. School Bell Blues

**Thank you so much again for the reviews, faves, and alerts. I get so happy when I read 'em. And goodness me, DINNER, Lume? I posted to the story at like 6:30am my time. So wow. XD So you all know, I work Sun-Every other Wed from 6:40am-6:58pm. And Thurs-Every other Sat from 7am-4pm. And someday soon hopefully, I'll start college...and I only sleep a few hours each night... Otherwise, I try to get on and write. And post. And such. XD But I have the attention span of a wall...so...I get easily distracted. Lately, mostly by reading SPN fics. And sometimes, [when I'm writing], I babble. So forgive me. It's my OCD at work. XD Enjoy!  
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"Did I mention you so owe me?" Dean said, for the umpteenth time, as he gazed unhappily at the middle school building before him, decked out with Sam's backpack [which was ungodly heavy, by the way] and his class list-which was apparently now Dean's class list. [Something that Dean had been very vocal in protesting].

"Yeah, you did. Just a few hundred times." Sam replied dryly as he stood behind his now smaller older brother. It wasn't that he didn't have sympathy-because he did. Sam wasn't _happy_ that Dean had to suffer through wee-teen life again or anything. But that didn't mean that he could be a little, ah, _pleased_ with his own situation. He was quickly finding out that being older definitely rocked, and maybe he was just a tiny bit intrigued by being the bigger brother for the moment.

A few snarky comments about Sam's 'heavy ass backpack', some convincing, a physical shove out the door, and one grumpy little-big brother later-Sam and Dean had finally headed out for school. Sam had taken Dean's backpack, but he'd left Dean's signature leather jacket behind [at the risk of Dean throttling him] because it wasn't his style anyway. Once they'd gotten past the less-than-respectable part of town, which wasn't far off from the 'better' half, the small-town types, all friendly and first-name-basis had been greeting them [sans their names], which wouldn't have been too bad-except...

Girls and women alike had been eyeballing Sammy like he was gorgeous on a stick. Seriously? What was with chicks and chicky-guys?

Dean had walked awkwardly beside Sam, frustrated by the patronizing glances in his direction and all the 'come-hither' looks Sam was getting. It wasn't even eight in the damned morning.

But the _worst_ was when they were within sight-distance of the schools, a high-schooler, a pretty blonde with cherry-red highlights, came up and actually _pinched_ his cheek. She meant well, all dopey and sweet-like, but that coupled with her, "Aww, your little brother is sooo cute," and Sam blushing like a virgin prom date had him about ready to consider fratricide himself.

"Isn't he?" Dean had replied sweetly as he patted Sam's back like one might a little brother, but the girl had taken it as a joke and laughed, while Sam shot Dean a glare behind her back that Dean favored with smug irritation and his tongue sticking out. Which had taken them both by surprise, actually, and the rest of the walk had been uneventful.

Till they'd actually reached the school.

"No way. No way in Hell. Screw this, I'm going back to the motel, and-" Dean's turn and walk-away tactic was interrupted by Sam taking his shoulder and steering him back in the other direction. Dean jerked away, a bit angered, actually-but Sam spoke soothingly and tried to make light of the situation.

"Aww, come on, Dean. How many times do you get to relive your glory days?"

"How old do you think I am, Sammy? I haven't _had_ my glory days yet, ya brat." Dean growled, now thoroughly agitated.

"...Fine, go ahead and go, but I'm staying. If whatever did this comes after us, I'll take it on myself." Sam adopted a stubborn tone, but really, he was manipulating his brother and he knew it. And yeah, maybe that was a little bit of an...asshole thing to do. But it was all for the best, right?

Sure enough, the thought of Sam in danger and without Dean at hand overruled Dean's own sense of personal injustice and he saw the moment that he'd won when Dean's shoulders slumped a bit. "I guess I could stick around." he grumbled.

Sam beamed and ruffled Dean's hair-which he now had again, little brownish curls- "Alright, we'll be back before you know it."

Dean shoved his hand away and shot him a death-glare mixed with something Sam couldn't identify, he might have called it 'pain', but why would Dean be hurting? Besides, he answered just fine. "Try that again, and I'll break your wrist." he turned to stomp off, but not before Sam called after him.

"Sure you will. Have fun, Dean."

A middle finger pointed skywards was his reply, and Sam smirked faintly. He felt...good. Like, really good. I-can-do-anything-Superman-eat-your-heart-out-good. He wondered if that was a typical adult feeling, or just him reveling in his newfound...awesomeness. Because he was pretty awesome. He'd never seen _Dean_ get mauled by girls on the way to school the way he just had, for example. And he'd been strong too, even when Dean had been complaining about the weight of his backpack-it had been feather-light to Sam now.

As for how Dean was handling it-other than his snarky behavior-Sam thought he was handling it just fine. There were those few weird looks he kept seeing peeking up from Dean's grumpy face, but otherwise, just fine. So Sam didn't give it much thought as he made his way up to the high school and to class. Dean's first class, or rather-now Sam's-apparently, was algebra. He'd already concocted a little story explaining the switching of the Winchester brothers-or rather-_cousins_. But when he entered the school and began receiving claps on the back and congrats for taking down that 'shithead' Travis, he quickly realized two things. That the story wouldn't be necessary. And that it wouldn't be necessary because they thought he was Dean...that is, they thought that Sam Winchester was who Dean had been. So inversely...

Dean was going to kill him.

...

"History. Great. Buncha dead guys." Dean muttered to himself as he pushed past throngs of kids-as he saw them-to try and find his class.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he whirled around, ready for a fight when he saw a wide-eyed kid-a nerd, by the look of him-staring at him as though struck by awe. "I can't believe you came, Dean, I mean, after _yesterday_." the boy's voice was a theatrically hushed whisper.

Dean frowned. "The _Hell_ are you talkin' about?"

"Yesterday? When your big brother kicked those dudes' butts? He's like...the coolest dude ever. I heard you and him ran off to Vegas yesterday to count cards cause he's like some super-cool agent or something."

Dean stared at the kid for a long moment before he asked. "Let me get this straight, my 'big brother'-"

"Sam Winchester!"

Dean's eye twitched as he continued through faintly gritted teeth. "Right, _him_, you're telling me you think he's the one who took those assholes down?"

The boy seemed taken aback by his language but he nodded. "Totally! All the girls are talking about it, they really like his hair too." the boy noted, as if that was an important afterthought.

Screw Dante's seven levels of Hell. [Which he'd recently learned about-somewhere in between shooting glances with the smokin' redhead in the third row] There were eight, and he was _in it_.

"And, uh, help me out here...where was I while this was going on?"

The boy looked at him like he was nuts. "You were behind Sam? He saved you from those guys."

Yup. Eight levels.

Friggen A.

...

High school was _awesome_. And apparently, Dean's life rocked more than he thought it would. The fight that would have made 'kid Sam' look like a sissy now made 'adult Sam' look like some kinda hero. Girls were waving and giggling, guys were high-fiving him, he was the big man on campus and he had to admit, he _loved_ it.

Come fourth period, his lunch hour, he was ready to see just what sort of fare high-schoolers had when a blonde in a cheerleader's outfit sauntered over and planted a kiss firmly on his lips, one that involved something wet-_her tongue!_-before she pulled back to leave Sam astounded. "Uh-"

"Sam Winchester, you are quite the Mr. Popularity today." she batted her eyes up at him. "I heard how you took those guys down and totally defended your little brother...it's so cute."

Yup. Dean had decided to run interference on a situation Sam had had handled, and now Dean was a hero. It figured. Well, at least it worked in his favor for once, given the situation. "Uh, thanks...Jessica?" he took a stab at it that this was the 'bombshell' his brother had mentioned.

"And you even remembered my name, you are a smart boy, Sammy."

"It's Sam." he corrected automatically, without giving it much thought. There were very few people that could get away with calling him that.

Jessica smiled like she thought that was cute too, and slid her arms around his neck. "Like I said, smart. That thing with the whipped cream last night...it was out of this world."

Sam tried not to blush as she slid her arms around him, her generous chest shoved up against his considerably less-generous one. He wasn't used to female attention, but certainly not an older woman doing...this. And that tongue thing-that was weird. "Uh...whipped cream?"

Jessica seemed to take his behavior as a game of some sort, and she shot him a saucy smile as she toyed with the edges of his hair. "You know what I mean...especially that thing-" she leaned up by his ear, "Where you..."

Sam jerked away, his face red enough to rival a tomato as he stared down at her. "Ah-um-that's-not...possible...uh-"

Jessica giggled. "I would have said the same...but you are a many of many talents, Mr. Winchester. I can't wait to see what you come up with Saturday."

"S-Saturday?" Sam swallowed hard and tried not to stammer, but he was flustered. And moreover, there was a certain...issue going on below his waist that was an entirely new ball-game for him. One that he had read about in passing and _did not_ want to be playing.

"The block-party, dope-" she thumped him in the middle of his color bone and smiled up at him. "Don't forget, you promised you'd show me the best way to go skinny-dipping."

"Skinny...dipping?" Sam repeated, flustered as her lips neared his again.

Jessica's brow furrowed slightly, as if she was starting to wonder if maybe this wasn't some weird game, but she must have decided that Sam Winchester was worth a few quirks before she chuckled. "You know...you, me, my parent's swimming pool-since you promised pools were way better than hot tubs, and our birthday suits..." she said as she brushed her lips against his.

Thanks to Dean, he knew what that last phrase meant, and thanks to Dean having told him-

Sam's face once again began competing with tomatoes.

...

"Alright, line up!" The coach blew her whistle and Dean tugged uncomfortably at the crappy-ass uniform he'd been made to wear. Dodgeball was the game of choice, and not that he didn't approve of a little all-American beating-the-snot-out-of-each-other-with-foamy-balls...but this kid crap was wearing thin on him. The whole day had been a bunch of hushed glances, whispers, and kids telling him how awesome his 'big brother' was. It was too much damned attention and way too damned annoying. But he did allow himself to realize that this was probably standard for Sam anytime Dean intervened, so was that why the kid kept getting so upset about it?

"Out of my way, shrimpchester." A large boy shoved past him, one that he recognized as...Lenny. The little dickbag from yesterday. He'd thought he'd done well to put the fear of-himself-in the boy, but apparently another lesson was required. Maybe a good dose of ass-kicking too, just for good measure.

"Dude, breath mints, ever hear of 'em?" Dean waved the air in front of his face as though it smelled and Lenny turned to sneer at him.

"Just you wait, Winchester, you'll get yours."

Surrounded by the _oohs_ of the crowd [what was this, friggen kindergarten?] Lenny headed over to his side of the dodgeball area, the team opposite Dean. He kinda wondered what Lenny meant by that, something prickling just beyond his awareness, but he settled for focusing on the game and the promise of ensuring that a ball found it's way square in the little prick's face.

Five minutes, several outs [made mostly by a slick-handed Dean], and the hardest of the balls-the _red_ one-later...Dean watched in satisfaction as a ball made a sickening connect with Lenny's face and the boy fell back with an unmanly scream.

Wasn't enough to give the kid a nosebleed or anything, just knock him on his flabby ass. And sure, he got suspended from playing for the rest of the day...[spared the office only because it was an 'accident']...

But it was damn well worth it to shut up the prick who wanted to pick on _his_ little brother.

...

"Sam Winchester, may I see you in my office?" Sam was on his way to his last period-English-when an older woman with brown hair pulled back in a severe bun he quickly gathered was the principal caught up with him.

"Ah...yeah, sure...I mean, yes, mam?" he ventured as she lifted a brow and he followed her back to her office, wondering what the Hell Dean-or rather, now Sam, had done.

In her modestly decorated office, he found himself gestured to have a seat and he found himself across from her as she pulled out a paper from a manilla envelope and passed it to him.

'Sam Winchester' was scrawled at the type, dated sometime during last week-their first in this town-and Sam realized it was a test that Dean had taken-now altered as if Sam had taken it? But as he peered down at it, he recognized that the way it was written up was Dean's way, not his. This was indeed, Dean's test.

An A+.

"I've been made aware of a certain incident yesterday afternoon..." Sam tried not to look guilty at that.

"Ah...about that-"

"-I don't want to hear it." she interrupted smoothly. "My concern is simple. Generally, you can spot certain types of students right off. The troublemakers. The excelling students. And so on. I had you pegged for the former, if you'll pardon my bluntness, but now it seems you fall into the latter as well. You were one of ten students in the whole of your grade to get full marks on that test, a test that is somewhat reknowned amongst our students for being a 'total pain'. I have been informed by several of your teachers that you like drive and motivation, but are exceedingly bright, as proven by your scores."

Dean? As in, school-hating, girl-crazy, wouldn't-crack-open-a-book-except-to-save-his-life, _Dean_ had scored top marks along with only nine other kids? Sam had to double-check, just to be sure, but it was definitely Dean's words and problem-solving it not his hand-writing and name. But how was that possible? Had Dean maybe...

Sam didn't want to think his brother had cheated, and he didn't think his brother was stupid or anything like that, but to get full marks on a test that hard...Dean had never let on to being able to do anything that academically inclined. But why hide that?

"If you keep this up, you could have a full ride to college...you'll be a senior next year, it's something to think about."

"Y-Yeah." he managed as her words rang through his mind. College...Dean, go to college? The two words didn't reconcile themselves as a pair in his mind at all. And it made him wonder...

Just what else had Dean been [possibly unintentionally] hiding?

...

Last period was just about ten minutes away, and Dean couldn't wait for the damned day to be over already. If he heard one more time how great _secret-agent Sam Winchester_ was, he was going to punch someone. Stupid classes, stupid kids, and stupid ass teachers. Man, he hated school. Didn't teach anything useful and never would. Dean lived in the real world. His science involved salt-and-burns, it involved iron, and silver, stuff like that. The only language course he needed was Latin. Math was how fast he could shoot off a fully loaded gun and reload it before the next baddie hit. History for Dean was only relative as lore, prior hunting cases, myths, things like that. Gym class? Well, Hell, he got plenty of exercise busting those baddies, or in the endless hours of training under his militant father. For Dean, life was school, and this was just a building full of hapless saps who didn't know an automatic from a friggen hand-gun.

He wanted to quit, it wasn't like truant services would find them. But their father insisted they go, and Dean listened. The only high-light [if you could call it that] that he saaw was that school made Sam happy for some weird ass reason. Kid lit up like a Christmas tree with his tests and stuff. And even though Dean didn't think much of school, he made damned sure that when that kid came home all happy cause of some test he got an A plus _plus_ on, he showed the kid he was proud of him. Even their dad had a few times, not so much lately, but Dean didn't blame the guy. Saving the world kinda took up a dude's time.

So that was that.

Dean headed off to his next class with those thoughts in mind when he found himself jerked aside down a second hallway and a hand cupped over his mouth. He rammed an elbow behind him and found purchase in a thick stomach, and sure enough, Lenny stood behind him choking like he'd gotten a jab in the throat-the damned wuss.

But he wasn't alone.

The same dweebs he'd taken out yesterday, Travis and Daniel, [now sporting some messed-up looking faces] were with him. How punks like them [punks who had been bigger than Dean even yesterday when he'd been right-sized] got into a middle school, he had no clue. But he found out fast that his younger body wasn't quite as strong when faced with two larger males holding his arms while Lenny shoved duct-tape over his mouth and they headed out with a squirming and infuriated Dean in their grasp.

...

Sam was wondering if the day could get any better, and he was a bit sad that classes were now over for the day. Sure, there were some topics that went a little over his head, and not just the ones in the classrooms, but other things he'd excelled on and he prided himself in his 'higher knowledge'. But he was still puzzled about Dean's grade...and how whipped cream could be used like-

"Um...Sam Winchester?"

Sam Winchester turned to find a somewhat mousey, but not unattractive, girl behind him. She seemed hesitant and he watched as she collected herself. "That's me." he said slowly, noting the girl seemed nervous. That was never a good sign.

"Look...I shouldn't...aw, damnit. Okay, here's the thing. I'm Daniel's sister." There was no recognition on Sam's face and she continued. "Lenny and Travis' cousin." A lightbulb went on in Sam's expression and he frowned. "Anyway, I'm not even supposed to tell you this-so you can't let them know I told you but, they're going after him."

"Huh?"

"They're going after your little brother, Dean. In like five minutes, before last period." Because of course, the middle school let out later than the high school, so that older siblings could collect their younger siblings if need be. "They knew they couldn't get to you, so they thought they'd mess him up instead as revenge. I'm worried that they'll go to far, so that's why I-"

"You're telling me those big guys and Lenny are going to jump my brother? In approximately five minutes?" Sam wanted to clarify.

"Y-Yeah."

Sam's hands were on her shoulders, gripping them maybe a little too tightly as he demanded. "Where are they?"

The girl tensed and she tugged away. "There's an old gym at the middle school, back behind the field, I think they're taking him there-"

"-You did the right thing. Thank you, really." Sam gave her a sincere thanks and then he was gone, halfway out the door of the school by the time she even registered his words.

She hoped that he made it in time.

...

Dean wasn't aware of too much of his surroundings. He was being half-dragged, half-carried by the assholes beside him and by the time he had a clear view, it was when he was shoved back-up against a wall in what looked like a run-down gym. They'd tied his hands behind his back with zip-tie tight enough to cut off his circulation a bit.

Lenny, the overweight and acne-rampant bully, Travis-the stereotypical bull-headed redneck type, and Daniel, the greasy, sleasy-attemping sort. All in all, a trio of morons.

And Dean wanted to smack himself for letting such a moronic bunch catch him to begin with, but it wasn't exactly his fault, this body was all screwy. He wasn't used to the shorter limbs and less training-intensified senses. Plus, he'd been admittedly distracted at that damn school.

"Well, well," Travis spoke smugly. "If it isn't shrimpchester-"

Dean rolled his eyes. _Because that's so original, asshat. _

"-Not so tough without your big brother to save you, huh?"

_I am the big brother, you dipstick, and I am gonna kick your ass. _ That was a damned promise.

Lenny wiped a bit of snot on his sleeve before he moved forward to haul Dean up by the collar of his shirt with a sneer. "Look at him. I think he wants to cry, just like a little girl."

_If I wanna cry, it's just because your breath __**still**__ stinks._

"Take off the tape, let's see what he says." Daniel was almost giddy, like a school-boy looking at nudey mags while his mom thought he was studying or some crap.

Dean felt the tape ripped off roughly as he was dropped to the ground. Running would be a moot point, they'd yank him back down, so for now he'd have to tolerate it and try to cut the zip-tie at his back, if he could just reach the knife in his pocket... Dean shifted his jaw a bit and inhaled before he smiled sweetly. "How many ass-clowns does it take to kidnap one dude? Let's see, one-two-thre-" his taunt was cut off by a clumsy but no less hard punch from Travis' meaty fist. The prick. Dean felt his tooth connect with his lip and the coppery, metallic taste of blood found it's way to his tongue.

"Screw it, put the tape back on. The sound of his voice is just gross." Travis announced.

"Real mature there, dickw-" Dean's by now thoroughly curse-ready mouth was covered by tape and he shot them all as venemous a look as he could muster. Oh, he was so going to kick their asses. As soon as he got out. And found a way to do that.

Lenny aimed a hard kick for his stomach out of nowhere and Dean's eyes bulged a bit at the sudden pain as he doubled over and fought to sit back up with as blaise a look as he could manage.

_I've had worse, trust me. In fact, I've had some pretty wicked chicks hit a lot harder than you._

And then there were the monsters and training-and Sam's damned superhuman punches-and there was no need to go into John, because that man could tip a wrestler with his punches.

Daniel, seeming still eager and giddy, threw a kick too and his clumsy shot found purchase with Dean's face.

His nose spurted with blood and he made a choked sound as he found it now difficult to breathe. But his choked, struggling noises seemed to amuse them, so much so that Travis set his foot on Dean's throat and began to push down, Dean's sudden color change from red to purple as he gagged apparently even more amusing.

Dark spots danced at the edge of Dean's vision. _Can't breathe...damnit...these idiots are gonna kill me...fuck...I need to-_

And all of the sudden, there was no pressure on his neck and he inhaled as best he could-still choking on his own blood a bit now that his damned nose was clogged full of it. Dean's eyes watered and he tried to figure out what had happened. He'd felt Travis' foot move, heard Lenny gasp and felt the thump of the ground as Travis was introduced to the ground-unconscious.

"Get the Hell away from my brother." A voice growled, and damn if that tone didn't give Dean the chills a bit, even as he fought a grin against the tape over his mouth.

_Sammy...you rock, kid. _

And then Sammy must have noticed Dean's more imminent predicament, because he heard Sam's voice all full of worry and girly-angst before he found large hands hauling him up. "_Dean_!" He kept Dean up with a hand on his shoulder while his free hand tore away the tape. "Holy crap, Dean, are you alright?" Sam's big, brown puppy-eyes were full of concern and while the situation sucked, he was a bit gratified to see those eyes. He was tired of seeing them all bitch-fit-ey these days.

Dean inhaled air into his grateful lungs with a few wheezy coughs and he gave a shaky nod as he swallowed hard and managed a somewhat bloody grin at Sam. "Just...fine...but you're...late." he teased.

Sam's eyes filled with relief even as he lightly tugged his brother's ear in mild 'exasperation'. He'd done it more when he was younger than anytime lately, but it seemed appropriate at the moment, a gesture of affection that had also been a gesture of annoyance at times. "Dude...you're unbelievabl-"

A fist clocked Sam in the side of his head, and Dean looked up to see Lenny had been the culprit, while Daniel at his side moved in to grab Sam.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean was getting more and more fond of that phrase, and he threw it in vehemently as he stumbled to his feet and charged Daniel to deliver a clumsy head-butt to the dude's upper stomach. Didn't hurt him much or anything, but it caused him to stumble back in surprise and gave Sam time to get up.

Daniel shoved Dean aside and promptly found himself grabbed by the collar of the shirt before Sam delivered a punishing blow to Daniel's face. There was a sickening _crack_ as his nose went sideways and Sam let him drop. He was probably unconscious, but if he wasn't, he'd be wishing that he was for all that his nose was going to hurt.

Dean grinned up at Sam from his side. "See? Not fighting is a waste of your time, bro, you're a natural."

Sam shot Dean an annoyed look, but there was a poorly hidden grin curving the edges of his lips. He wanted to be angry-and oh, boy, _he was_. Those boys were lucky he didn't rip out their windpipes while he was at it for hurting Dean. And he wanted to be annoyed that Dean was being so nonchalant about his situation, and teasing him at a time like this...but he couldn't be. It had been awhile since he and Dean had done anything like _this_ together and...well, it was nice to be able to help his brother for a change. What surprised him was that Dean didn't seem bothered by it. He was falling into sync like nothing had changed, and Sam didn't get it. Wasn't he pissed that his 'little brother' had saved him? Instead, he was just being...Dean. Praising his fighting, teasing him, just...Dean-stuff.

Lenny started to back away but Dean made a covert movement and wound up behind Lenny, managing to trip the bigger boy before he sent a painful kick of his own to Lenny's head. Lenny went down with a groan, but he wasn't unconscious, so Dean _generously _delivered another. "Told you I'd kick your ass, you friggen pansy." Dean looked smug and triumphant, despite his rather beat-up and disturbingly bloodied appearance, and Sam shook his head even as he grinned a little too.

"Unbelievable." Sam finished his word from earlier, and Dean just shot him a brilliant grin.

"Don't be jealous, Sammy, someday-maybe you'll be _almost_ as awesome as me."

"I can only hope." Sam said dutifully, his voice rife with sarcasm.

Dean didn't lose his grin until he scrunched his nose and turned his back to Sam. "Uh, ya know, if you feel like giving me a hand here..."

Sam smirked lightly as he came behind Dean and set a hand on his shoulder. "There you go. That work?"

"Sammy." Dean's voice a growl, but playful enough and Sam chuckled as he pulled out his own pocket-knife to make short work of the zip-tie. Dean rubbed his wrists, glad when feeling returned to his hands and he flexed them with relish before he stomped over to Travis and Daniel, and respectively gave them some pretty killer kicks to the 'nads. "Ass-clowns." They'd be hurting when they woke up, alright.

Sam, for once, couldn't disagree with Dean's actions. They deserved worse than they'd gotten, that was for sure.

"So how'd you find me?" Dean asked as he stepped back over by his brother.

"Daniel-that one-" he pointed, "His sister told me what they were planning and..."

Dean's lips quirked. "You thought you'd get a chance to be a badass for once?"

"Yeah, that was definitely it, Dean." Sam smiled a bit. He was amused until he saw Dean stagger a bit, and he didn't hesitate to slip an arm around Dean's shoulders. "Dude, you alright?"

"Get offa me." Dean shrugged him off and tugged away. "I'm fine, Sammy. Don't sweat it." Truth was, he was more than a little dizzy-what with getting knocked around in the head and nearly getting knocked out from lack of air-but he wasn't about to let Sam baby him about it. Like he'd said-thought-whatever, he'd been through worse.

Sam frowned as he eyed his brother, but arguing it wouldn't help, he knew that well so he settled for motioning to the door. "Fine, but when we get back to the motel-you're letting me take care of your face. You look like a horror movie."

"I love it when you get all bossy, Sammy. But I'm not into cradle-robbing, sorry." Dean grinned belligerently, but Sam wasn't put off in the slightest.

"Come on, bro." Sam tried to steer Dean towards the door by putting an arm around his shoulders again and Dean tugged away again to shoot a faint glare at Sam.

"Dude. Seriously. Stop with this...touching...and..fondling. And...just stop."

"_Fondling_? Dean, I'm just trying to help."

"Well, thanks, but I don't need it."

"Yeah, because you were doing fine without me." Sam replied sarcastically.

"I had it handled." Dean ground out.

"Funny, because-from where I was standing-it looked like you were getting ready to pass out."

"They make glasses for that." Dean advised as he tried to turn and walk away before Sam grabbed his arm, which was the wrong move. Dean smacked his arm away and glared. "I said knock it off! I get that you grew a few inches, _kid_, but I'm still the big brother here."

"Yeah, well not at the moment, _squirt_." Sam regretted the words as soon as he spoke them. Someone who didn't know Dean as well as Sam might not have noticed it, but the faint flinch his brother gave was equivalent of a slap in the face for Dean. Sam wasn't trying to patronize the other, it just sort of...came out. And with Dean responding to his concern with that attitude, he'd just sort of...reacted. Poorly.

"You know what? Screw you. I'm going back to the motel and calling Dad, you do what you want. You're a big kid now, right?" Dean started to turn away and Sam caught him by the shoulder to turn him back around. His brother looked ready to start swinging so he quickly pulled his hand away and held his own up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Really. I didn't mean that. I shouldn't have said it."

"Ya think?"

"I'm sorry. I was just...I was worried about you, Dean...I didn't want you to get hurt either." Sam mumbled as he referenced Dean's earlier words to him when he'd been defending Sam, and this time, he wasn't trying to manipulate Dean. He honestly didn't know what had gotten into him, and he wasn't intentionally trying to patronize the other but he knew his older brother well enough to know that that wouldn't sit well with him at all.

Dean's glare lasted off all of ten seconds more before it crumbled and Dean gave a tired sigh as he lifted his hand and set it on Sam's shoulder, which he gave a reassuring squeeze. "It's alright, you can't help being a bitch."

"Jerk." Sam replied with a faint smile, relieved. Still, as the pair started heading out, he ventured to ask- "Will you _please_ let me help you with-"

"-Shut up, Sammy."

Sam sighed.

...

The walk back to the motel was far less eventful. Except for one small stipulation.

"Oh-my-ooh! I heard everything! They already caught the boys in the gym, but I can't believe it...ohh, are you alright, sweetie?"

Jessica Lynch had found them on their way back, promptly planted one on Sam, and then began gripping Dean's cheeks in concern. "You poor baby." she cooed.

Dean had several reactions very quickly.

First. Surprise. [Jessica had caught up to them]. Second. Shock. [Jessica kissed Sam]. Third. Embarrassment. [Jessica was babying him-and not in a good way]. Fourth. Anger mixed with frustration. [He was _not_ a kid, damnit!].

Dean pushed her hands away and growled. "I'm _fine_."

Jessica_ tsked _lightly. "Aww, you're tough like your big brother, huh?"

"I don't _have _a _big_ brother." Dean said through gritted teeth, and the look of warning he shot Sam was all the motivation he needed to intercede to defuse the situation.

"He's not feeling too well right now, ah, Jessica...so I should really get him back to the motel..."

"Oh, totally, yeah, I understand." she slid her arms around Sam's neck suddenly and planted a kiss, a _wet_ kiss, on Sam, who turned several shades darker and cast a guilty glance at his fuming brother. "See you tomorrow, Sam...looking forward to Saturday." she murmured before she patted Dean's head on her way past. "Bye, cutie, hope you feel better. If you need anything, you just call, alright?" and with that, she sauntered off.

The Winchester brothers didn't move a moment, and silence reigned between them as Sam stared somewhat anxiously down at Dean, hesitant to speak. But Dean wasn't saying anything so finally he hedged. "Dean...I-"

Dean suddenly turned and slammed a fist into Sam's stomach and the boy-turned-man inhaled sharply in surprise as he doubled over a bit. Dean's hand lifted again before Sam could reply and he winced in anticipation of the next blow when he instead felt Dean's hand cup around the back of his neck and give it a squeeze. "The punch was for kissing my date, bitch...but this..." he ruffled Sam's hair with a rueful little smile, mostly forced, but the effort meant enough. It was more than Sam expected, by far. "Is for kissing a chick at all."

Sam made a note of the fact that thirteen or not, Dean hit _hard_. And as he lifted with a final rub to his stomach, he feigned mock-offense. "I've kissed girls before!"

"First of all, dreams don't count as kissing. And second, Bill Nye ain't no girl." Dean said, referencing Bill Nye the Science Guy.

Sam huffed as he and Dean began walking again, and he gave the other a light shove that Dean accepted with a little grin. "You're such a jerk."

"It's called being awesome. Like I said, maybe you'll understand. Someday."

Silence reigned between them again for most of the journey back to the motel, but it was companionable. In fact, it was probably the best they'd had in nearly a month.

Funny how things worked out that way.

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**Took longer than expecteeedddd. But I wanted to do the school segment all at once and then I was demanded to visit someone at their new mall-job and it took for-freaking-ever. XD But anyway! Chapter! Filled with angst, brotherly love, rescues, and...ass-clown-hat-holes. Dean uses several vartiations. And for fun, I added the bit about him trying on 'son of a bitch' as his new 'catchphrase' as it eventually becomes. XD By the by, I made a little mistake that I tried hard not to make. See, they hadn't called John just yet because cell phones weren't invented then the way they were now [I think], so I think John just has that big ole block-cellphone. So they would have had to use a motel or school phone. And yet, Dean demands to know why Sam didn't answer his phone so...I'll have to fix that. I think Bill-Nye was out in 1996 though, so...hopefully. XD I was a Barney fan, [like...hardcore _]...so...maybe? XD Thanks again, so much for the reviews and faves and alerts, they really, REALLY mean a good deal to me. They're bright spots. So thank you, and I adore you all endlessly. 3**

**By the way...this is kinda spoiler, but I wanted you to know so you kinda see what's up-but Dean for sure is going to start [has started] emotionally de-aging a bit. He'll have all his memories each time he de-ages, but he'll get more and more childlike in response and emotion-but he'll still be Dean. It'll be uber conflict and make for some great brotherly schmoop. XD As for Sam, I've toyed with his emotions and stuff going up and touched on that a bit with some of his 'patronizing' gestures, but I'm not sure if I'll really do that with him or not, probably not. But we'll see. Just wanted you to know, because I am paranoid about whether or not I'm doing characters and such effectively, and being in character..;-; And hopefully the humor I try to insert actually makes you laugh. [My motto=I love to laugh, and I love to make people laugh] So I get kinda paranoid about that too. Maybe all of my writing, I think that's just natural for writer's, maybe. XD By the way, keep a look-out for a certain-blue eyed angel making a quickie cameo [because I loves him and he insisted and I don't wanna get smited _ XD], and John will be coming in...soonishly. XD Maybe we'll even hear from Bobby. Just for kicks. XD~**


	4. Brothers Together

**You people are awesome, let me just say that. XD Thank you all! Your support brightens my soul and inspires me to keep writing! XD Bwah, S7x5 drove me nuts. I hope they do somethign that puts Dean in a position to confess all to Sammy and they just have brotherly love. I think de-aging would help the brothers a lot, actually, but [although the show just keeps getting bloodier ;-; ] I don't see de-aging in the future. Just an increasingly alcoholic Dean. Sam just needs to assert his little brother position and break Dean from his sad-shell. XD I thought Sam's attitude about guilt was a little strange though, I dunno. Sam's character seems to alternate a lot. I dunno. XD And Dean...gah. Poor fellow. I digress! Storytime!**

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"Hold still, quit squirming!" An exasperated exclamation.

"Don't tell your older brother what to do." An almost petulant growl.

"I will if you're being a baby." A muttered retort.

"I am not! It sti-_gah!_-ngs." Dean complained.

They'd arrived back to the motel and an unwilling Dean found himself unable to resist Sam's damned puppy eyes as the younger Winchester insisted on tending to Dean. Which, wasn't in itself unusual, Sam had played medic plenty for Dean and John. But the whole situation was messed up and Dean was trying to conserve what little dignity he had left. Which, as Sam applied more of that goopy-stinging-crap, was quickly fading.

Sam had cleaned up Dean's face with a hot rag and put some 'goop' onto the split skin above his lip. There were the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek, and he could tell from the way Dean winced occasionally when he talked that his throat might have taken a little worse than he'd suspected. And that just made him feel worse for not getting there sooner, as if sending Dean to school in the first place wasn't enough to feel guilty for. Sam also noted that if Dean hadn't been in his place, it would have been Sam in that position, and how long would it have been before Dean had found him?

And something else was bothering him a bit, aside from what he was finding to be odd little quirks in Dean's usual behavior that he chalked up to Dean's attempt at handling the situation. Strange as it was, he was a bit puzzled by the fact that Dean had taken Sam 'coming ot the rescue' so well. And there was the issue of the test, he hadn't forgotten that either.

"Somethin' on your mind, Sammy?" Dean, as usual, could read Sam's face like a book. Something he both admired and hated, depending on the situation.

"Just...thinking that maybe your face looks better this way." he joked lightly.

"Too bad there's nothing that'd make your face look better." Dean retorted with a faint smirk, to which Sam rolled his eyes and Dean continued. "Seriously though...what's going on with you? You feelin' alright?"

Again, typical Dean. Here he was, beaten half to Hell, and worried about Sammy.

"I'm fine, you're the one that's all beat up."

Dean scoffed. "Like a few punks could beat me up, this is just a scratch."

Sam shook his head. "It's not and you know it."

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes, until he saw the way that Sam was looking at him. The kid was nibbling on his lower-lip like it was going out of style and eyeing Dean like he was worried Dean was going to just...collapse or something.

"Sammy, hey, I'm fine, okay?" he set his smaller hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm okay." Dean said again, and he met the other's gaze firmly in an attempt to show the other that he was serious.

Sam's troubled look didn't fade though and after a moment, he mumbled. "Aren't you mad?"

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as he lowered his hand. "Huh? Mad about what?"

Sam hesitated and Dean's expression became annoyed. "Don't pussy-foot, Sam, what's going on?" His big brother instincts were on high alert and after a moment, Sam relented.

"...You only went to school because of me...and you got hurt. And then...I know you don't like me helping you, so..."

The confused look was back again. "Don't like...what the Hell are you talking about?"

Sam became flustered then, and he wrung his hands a bit as he lowered his gaze and settled for staring at a terribly interesting stain on the carpet. "I know that..." _You and Dad think I'm basically useless..._ "...you don't think I can make it as a hunter, so-"

"-Sam." Dean interrupted suddenly. "I don't like repeatin' myself, but-_what the Hell are you talking about_?"

Sam's gaze shot up to his brother, a faintly hurt look on his face as he tried to determine whether his brother was jerking him around or not. "I get it, I still need to train more...and I'm...usually pretty small for my age," present moment not included, "...I mean, it's pretty obvious...you don't like me helping, and I've heard...you tell..." he hesitated and added quickly. "I'veheardyoutellDadI'mnotready." he muttered. On a few eavesdropping occasions.

Dean stared at Sam for a long moment, and he grew flustered again as he looked away, certain that Dean was going to be grumpy and think Sam was being stupid. But instead, he felt Dean's knuckles rap against his forehead as the other muttered. "How can such a smart-ass kid be so dumb? Jeez, Sammy."

It was Sam's turn for his confusion to have a sequel as he stared back at his brother in turn. "I'm not wrong, am I?"

Dean looked skyward a moment in exasperation as he drug his hands over his face with a wince as he recalled too late the sticky-ointment on his hands. He rubbed them off on his-or rather-Sam's pants much to the latter brother's unspoken chagrin. "You're right...that I told Dad you weren't ready." Sam's face fell. "Because he was wanting to bring you on more hunts." At that, Sam's face became confused.

"Dad...thought I was ready?"

"Yup." Dean said, his expression stony. "And I said you weren't."

"But...but why?" He'd thought that John hadn't thought much of his schools, and he assumed that Dean had felt the same, but to know that Dean-his big brother, his hero, was the one who specifically didn't want him to go...that...hurt.

Dean's expression became annoyed and his mouth tightened as he seemed to debate whether or not to answer.

"Dean...c'mon...you have to at least tell me _why_.."

"...Because..." he trailed off, not certain apparently how to say it-or hesitant to do so. "...Sammy, I..." Dean exhaled in frustration before he forced his green eyes to meet Sam's hurt, confused brown ones. "I...damnit!" Dean gave in and just let his frustration drag the words out of him. "I don't want you to get hurt! And I don't...want you to be the way I am...you should get to be a kid, Sammy, not a damned hunter...you deserve that..." Dean seemed like he might say more, but he fell silent and Sam stared at his little older brother in shock.

It was the first time Dean had ever really indicated to him that the hunter's life was anything less than the best life.

Dean's gaze had lowered and Sam lowered his head so that he was in Dean's line of vision as he set his hand on Dean's shoulder and gently shook him to get Dean's attention on him. "What do you mean, 'the way you are'? And not a hunter...I thought..."

"Nevermind, just forget it." Dean muttered and he tried to push Sam's hand away, but Sam caught Dean's wrist and met his brother's gaze.

"Tell me, Dean...please?"

Dean looked pained a moment, especially as his gaze fell on Sam's larger hand holding his more-slender wrist. But he didn't try to tug his hand away and he spoke quietly. "I'm messed up, Sam, you have no idea...being a hunter...it's great, it is...we-I-_help_ people...but it's...I'm not..." he wasn't sure how to proceed, and Dean sure as Hell wasn't the 'talk' type, so it was doubly difficult.

Hours of training with John in the wee hours of the morning, long before Sam woke up flashed through his mind. Forcing himself to keep fighting even when his body was bruised and trembling, and he could barely stand. The first time he'd killed something, buried a knife deep into it's heart and felt it's warm blood on his hands. Those words, over and over again. _"Watch out for Sammy." _ His job, his duty. Ever since the day John had placed Sam into his hands and told him to 'take your brother and run'. Dean was in charge of Sam uniquely, in a way that superseded even their father.

And he remembered the horror that clenched his gut that first kill. He should have been thrilled, but all he could see were those eyes rolling back into that human-like head and the feeling of that sticky, wet blood pouring over him. The 'glamour' of hunting had faded, to be replaced with the bitter realization that hunting was anything but glamorous. It was messy, and painful, and left a cold spot deep inside that ate and ate at you. Every kill made it grow, because you had to be at least a little cold to be a hunter. To forego a simple, white-picket-fence life and subject yourself to the mud, and bitter chill, and the dirty, unclean tasks that made up hunting. The knowledge of being apart, a society 'freak', and in some eyes-a monster.

Dean hadn't been a child since he was four years old. The moment he'd held Sam in his arms, he'd been thrust into the role of protector and guardian, and hunter-to-be. Toys had been replaced by guns, lullabyes by screams, and his father's warm embrace had been replaced by the relentless training that generally left him weak enough to collapse. But even as a child-or whatever a child with his childhood snatched up was, he'd tried to make things different for Sam. Watch the kid, take care of him, let him have some semblance of...as cliche and nonexistent as it was in a hunter's world: _innocence_. Because Sam, his baby brother, his damned best friend, he _deserved_ that.

Dean didn't want Sam to grow up cold the way Dean had. To feel the burden of responsibility weighing every action he took. Dean didn't ever want Sam to feel something die by his hands. He didn't want that bitter resignation of suffering for the 'greater good' to be Sam's, and he didn't want John to put more pressure on the kid than he did already. So he continued to try and keep John at bay, by training harder, working harder, and focusing John's attention away from Sam's admittedly kick-ass skills. John wasn't a bad Dad, he just...was a hunter. And he made mistakes. Dean just tried to learn from them and keep them from hurting Sammy.

"Hunting makes you cold, Sammy." Dean whispered, almost not even realizing he was saying it. He'd gotten lost in his thoughts and found himself just...talking, almost to himself. "The first time you kill, part of you dies too. Even if they're monsters and they deserve it, it just...hunting takes you over...I don't want you to be that way, Sam...you're my little brother..."

Sam felt his heart clench in a way that made him want to reach out and hug his brother like when he really was a kid. He wanted to wipe that look off of Dean's face, it was one he'd never really seen there before. Sad, and lost, and _haunted_. It was horrible, his big brother should never, _ever_ look that way. But Dean probably wouldn't like that, so he settled for sliding his hand from Dean's wrist to his hand and closing his fingers around Dean's to squeeze them tightly.

"You're not cold, Dean." he said softly. "And I wouldn't want you to be either, you're my big brother...and you aren't cold...you wouldn't care this much if you were..."

Dean's expression twisted in pain at that as a mixture of frustration and desperation mingled in his expression for a moment before he managed to clench his fingers around Sam's a bit as well. "You're such a bitch, Sam." Pain laced his tone, a frustration he couldn't put words to, but relief as well.

"And you're a jerk...but that's okay, 'cause we have each other, right?" Sam ventured.

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean said softly with a quiet chuckle as his eyes closed. "We have that." His eyes opened after a moment and he added. "I'm not mad you helped me, Sam, we're brothers. That's what we do. If anything, I'm just mad you had to. Do you know how _embarrassing _it is to get clocked by those losers?" he complained.

Sam could tell from the return of Dean's attempts at humor that he was done with this bit of sappy moment. But that was okay, Dean had said enough. Confused the Hell out of Sam, anad made his heart ache for his big brother, but he understood and it helped assuage his fears a little. Dean didn't think he was useless, he was just trying to...protect him. Which Sam both appreciated and disliked, somewhat. And he wasn't sure what to make of all that Dean had said. Because Dean wanted to be a hunter, didn't he? He obeyed their father's every order, even when Sam thought it was stupid. And he always seemed eager to hunt. It was a whole different side of his brother he'd just glimpsed, like the bit about the test, and it seemed that maybe he didn't know Dean as absolutely as he thought he did. Kinda sucked that it had taken this wacky situation to find this much out, but there it was.

_"We're brothers, that's what we do."_

Dean had come to his rescue and Sam had thrown a fit about it, and now that Sam had come to Dean's, it was just what brothers do. Why hadn't he seen it that way? "Speaking of embarrassing things." Sam said suddenly. "I was wondering..."

Dean's gaze was wary at that. "Wondering what...?"

Sam bit his lower lip before he chanced it. "Jessica...she, uh...she said something about whipped cream that I didn't really get...I mean, it's not possible to-"

"_Sammy_," Dean's voice was a bit hoarse as he hastily interjected. "We are _not_ having this conversation."

"But-"

"_No_."

"Well, would you at least-"

Dean's hand covered Sam's mouth as he looked at the other warningly. "One more word, and I will deck you."

Beneath Dean's hand, Sam pouted a bit, but Dean's look of faint amusement and the smirk on his lips reassured Sam that whatever had been putting that awful look on Dean's face was gone for now, and for now...

That was enough.

...

Sometime later, night had fallen and nothing of real import had gone on. Both brothers had showered, eaten some of their usual, questionable fare of food, and each-while in the privacy of the bathroom, had respectively examined themselves. Dean had left a message with John that something had happened and to call them as soon as he could. At present, they were each on their respective beds, watching some black-and-white show that was supposed to be all kinds of funny. But neither brother's mind was really on it, not when they each had too much else to think about.

Sam had debated on whether or not to broach the subject of the test. Maybe he was making too big a deal out of it, but he just...it bugged him, nagged at him, and it just added another piece to the puzzle his brother had suddenly become.

"Dude. You keep staring at me again. You aren't gonna try and have another talk, are ya? 'Cuz it ain't happening." Dean advised as he cast a glance in his little brother's direction.

Sam hesitated and then shook his head. "It's just...weird, seeing you like this again..." he supplied instead. His brother had been traumatized enough for one day, he supposed, without Sam grilling him about that test.

Dean scrunched his nose. "How do you think I feel? I have to look _up_ at my little brother. It's unnatural." he complained.

"I might even be taller than you usually are." Sam noted as he glanced down at himself, before he found heard Dean scoff.

"Dream on, squirt. Little brothers don't get to be taller than their big brothers, it doesn't work that way. This is just a freak-event."

Sam smirked a bit at Dean and teased. "Are you sure? Maybe I _do_ get taller. It'd serve you right for picking on me so much."

"You're such a wuss. You just wait, when I'm right-sized again, I'll make you pay, brat."

Sam considered that as he lifted a brow. "So until then...does that mean I get to make _you_ pay?" Sam ventured with his smirk in tact.

Dean finally looked from the T.V. over to Sam with a wary frown. "Hell, no. It doesn't work that way."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"So?"

"So big brother rules."

Sam casually lifted from the bed and stretched his arms above his head as he oh-so-casually took a few steps towards his wary big brother.

"Sammy..."

"I mean, if I didn't take advantage of this a little, what kind of little brother would I be?" Sam noted as he stood before Dean, who quickly scooted off the bed and took a few steps back as he scanned the room for some sort of non-lethal weapon. He knew what game was probably coming. As kids, it had been tickling, but getting older, the game had changed to a brotherly-somewhat aggressive version of say-uncle.

"You are so getting your ass kicked." Dean informed Sam.

"Yeah, yeah. Like I've never heard that one before."

Sam grinned and Dean glared, and their little game began.

Sometime later, after casualities involving a pillow, a lamp, and now very wet pair of shoes, neither brother had said uncle by the time they collapsed onto their respective beds. It had been a little childish, maybe, and not the best time to be playing around when there was something way messed up going on. But they were both in need of a little comfort and reassurance, and the brotherly play had gone a long way in lifting their spirits.

Sam snuggled sleepily into his spare pillow as he smiled at Dean across from him, contentedly collapsed on his own bed. "That was fun, Dean...we haven't laughed that hard in...way too long..."

Dean grinned faintly at Sam. "You always did have a thing for me kicking your butt."

Sam snorted. "Who was the one crying about his shoes getting wet?"

"I wasn't crying, and you _soaked_ them, man!"

"Oops." Sam replied airily, and Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, thanks to you, I'm short one pillow-so we're even."

"Dad's gonna be pissed you broke the lamp." Dean taunted.

"Excuse me? Who ran into the table?"

"I _grazed _it. You're the one who fell on it like friggen Godzilla."

"Don't be mad because I'm taller."

"Dream on, kid."

"It's not a dream if I'm awake." Sam challenged back playfully, and both brothers were grinning now.

"Aw, go to sleep already, you're annoying me." Dean closed his eyes and pretended to be passed out.

Sam smiled at his big brother. He still wasn't happy about the situation, and he still wasn't sure what to make of Dean's sudden quirks, but one thing was for sure...he hadn't felt good like _this_ in awhile, and he was pretty sure Dean was genuinely happier than he'd been in a good bit too. So maybe the situation wasn't ideal but, as he flicked off the light and headed to sleep, he reflected that maybe...it wasn't so bad after all. They'd get through this alright, together, as brothers.

"Night, Dean." Sam said softly as he smiled faintly into the darkness.

After a moment, Dean mumbled back. "Night, Sammy."

Yeah, they were gonna be just fine.

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**This chapter was basically a whole lot of fluffery. And brotherly-ness. And some insight. And such. XD I thought I'd give them a break and let them heal each other with brotherly love a bit. Poor Sammy, he still doesn't get the whipped cream. [Neither do I, frankly, Dean won't tell me. : / ] Thank you for the continued support, m'dears. You are all amazing, and much adored. I'm also toying with different ideas for the bonus chapter now. School Bell Blues pretty much covered what body-swapping would have been like, so a chapter about that would be a bit redundant. I've considered that maybe John gets little for a bit, but not sure I like that...and I toyed with the possibility of Sammy having to spend some time as a wee-Sammy again [either just physically, or physically/mentally], to make things fair to his big brother and give some uber brotherly fluff]...and some other ideas I can't remember at the moment, we'll see. XD In the meantime...what's everyone gonna be/do for Halloween? And by the way, can some kind soul explain the difference between a tag/coda/gen? I'd really appreciate it. I tried googling it, but I was searching dumb or something 'cuz I came up blank. XD Astafir and Lune, you guys rock so many socks. Thank you for being awesome. Heather, Gluisa, Jingle, Doesthat, you brightened my existence. XD Just felt like personally informing you all. And those of you who fave and alert and such, you guys/girls rock too, so you know. I get so happy when my phone shows me notification emails from you peeps. Or I go on break at work or wake up in the morning/random times at night to a smattering of them. And thanks you anonymous folks who make my hit and visitor counts go up with your reading. Because I happy-stalk those too. XD Lurves you all! -Witchy~**


	5. Unhappy Revelations

**I'm procrastinating so many other stories...but I just love this one. Gah. I can at least make the excuse that I have to hurry if I have a chance of finishing it before Halloween. XD Hooray for days off though. I can write at my attention-span-of-a-wall leisure. XD Speaking of, my 12 1/2 hours a day job is going through some difficulty, so to cut the need for layoffs, they're doing shutdowns. So I'll have a very rare, amazing, three days off. Mon/Tues/Wed. So...hopefully that means intense amounts of writing. We'll see. XD By the by, I hadn't intended to use the fflashbacks, but then I did and it seemed like a nice idea to do a flashback each night that Dean transforms, based on the age that Dean is transforming into. Sweet Weechester fluff excuse. XD ~**

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_Six-year old Sam sniffled as he curled up into the lumpy, motel couch. It was Halloween. He should be out trick-or-treating, because as long as there wasn't anything to hunt, Dad let Sam trick-or-treat, and last year he'd even let the then nine-year old Dean take Sam out alone for a little bit around the block. Dean was too old for trick-or-treating, supposedly, but he always helped Sam by stealing a costume of some kind._

_Now though, he was sick, really sick, and even though he'd begged and pleaded, John had made it very clear that Dean wasn't allowed to let Sam out of the motel at all. And then stupid Dean, now ten years old, had gone and left about an hour ago, and Sam was miserable. _

_The boy sniffed again as tears filled his eyes. He didn't want to be stuck inside, and he didn't want to be alone. He wanted his Dad and his big brother, and he wanted to get to trick-or-treat too..._

_"Hey, you big baby, why are you cryin'?" _

_Sam jumped as he heard Dean's voice, and the sniffling, stuffy-nosed, red-eyed, and slightly-wheezy boy all but tackled Dean as he latched on to his waist and gripped him tightly. "Dean! You didn't go without me!" _

_"Huh?" _

_"Tricker-treating!" Sam nearly wailed, like it was the most important and obvious thing, and then he started to cough and it wasn't until Dean pried the boy off that he realized something. "Huh...Batman?" _

_Dean had a Batman eyemask on, a cape, and a Batman shirt with a fake belt design to boot. _

_Dean gave Sam a cocky look. "Yeah? So? Here." he shoved something over Sam's head and the boy was awestruck when he realized that it was a Superman shirt, with the cape included. He then held out a little pumpkin basket, filled with some candy, a couple of ding dongs, and a Superman logo wristband. Dean had probably stolen...all of it, but Sam didn't really think of that. As it was, the little boy was thrilled. _

_Dean saw the boy staring at the items like they were priceless treasures, and he had to smile when the boy looked up at him with wide, puffy eyes. "You said tricker-treat was for babies..." _

_"Yeah, well...it's still cool to wear costumes with your little brother...and stuff." Dean explained, and Sam's expression brightened before he coughed again and Dean's humor faded to concern. "Alright, kiddo, get up here." he helped heft Sam onto the couch where he promptly bundled him with a blanket and set him up with his little candy-filled pumpkin basket. "Gimme a sec, Superman." Dean said, and he headed off and around the little corner that separated the very small kitchen._

_When he reemerged, it was with two plastic cups full of hot chocolate and little ghost-shaped marshmallows. Dean flicked on the T.V. which was playing some Addams Family reruns as he settled in beside a sniffling Sam. "Here." Dean set his cup on his lap in between his legs, and passed Sam his own cup. "Blow first though." Dean held up a tissue and Sam scrunched his nose before he obediently gave it a hard blow and then happily began slurping some of his hot chocolate. Dean didn't make it a lot, but when he did, he made it just right and it wasn't ever too hot. Dean was awesome like that._

_"Sorry we didn't get to go out this year, buddy...but we'll go next time, I promise." _

_Sam gave a noisy sniff before the bundled up boy squirmed his way into Dean's side, where he nestled partially under Dean's arm and against his chest as he took another slurp of his hot chocolate. He tilted his head up to beam at Dean with a hot chocolate mustache, and a little marshmallow stuck to the side of his mouth. "S'okay, Dean...this is better than tricker-treating...right?" Sam suddenly looked anxious, like he was worried that a big boy like Dean would want to do something else._

_Dean smiled softly at his baby brother as he slid a scrawny arm around the little boy snuggled up against him and held him comfortably close. He pressed a brotherly kiss to the boy's head. "Yeah, Sammy, it's way better. Love ya, kiddo. Happy Halloween." _

_"Happy Halloween, Dee. Love you too." Sam chimed happily as he nuzzled into his brother and shortly after fell into a stuffed-up, but warm sleep, with his big brother sleeping with him._

...

"Sammy...Sam! Damnit, wake up!" A voice seemed to be wailing from above him, and Sam groaned a little as he tried to pull away from the hands shaking his shoulders.

"Five more minutes..." Sam mumbled.

"Sam!" Dean pounded a small fist on Sam's chest, and the latter winced and slowly opened his eyes.

"What's wrong, Dean? What's-" Sam trailed off and his eyes opened wide.

Before him stood a slightly-chubby cheeked, freckle-faced, green-eyed boy of _ten_.

"Dean...no way..." Sam whispered in horror. Sam's clothes, which had previously been a little tight, were now fairly loose on Dean's frame. He'd gotten smaller, a little rounder in his face, and now that Sam considered it-his voice had gotten a little higher with it's sudden youth.

Dean's miserable expression didn't change as Sam finally awoke and acknowledged him, if anything, he just seemed more so. "It got worse."

Sam could definitely see that, and as he sat up and found himself looking down at his brother, he realized that Dean wasn't the only one who'd changed. Sam had gotten a little bigger, he could tell that already. At first, he thought that they had simply [if one could call it that] switched ages but now...it was like he was stealing years from Dean or something. "Dean..." He wasn't sure what to say, and wasn't sure how he could possibly comfort Dean in this situation.

Dean's expression welled up in frustration before he turned and promptly headed to the bathroom. Sam stumbled out of the covers and to his feet and followed behind, where he was indeed met with a still slightly older version of himself in the mirror. His features had sharpened a bit, his hair had gotten a little longer, and his body a little bit taller, even a bit more muscular. He might have admired the changes a little, actually, if not for the fact that Dean was barely tall enough to look in the mirror. Sam stared down at the top of Dean's head, covered in loose, brown curls, and realized that the situation had gone from crap, to very, very bad.

Dean's gaze was focused entirely on his reflection as he pushed, prodded, and tugged at his face. "This can't be happening..." Dean's voice came out small, and a bit thickly like he was trying not to cry. Which...never happened. Dean Winchester didn't cry. Sam focused in on Dean's eyes in concern, just in case, but there were no hints of tears there. Still...

"We're going to fix this, Dean." he set his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed it, and Dean jumped like he'd forgotten that Sam was there, although he didn't shrug Sam's hand off. "We'll figure it out."

Slightly wide, green eyes found their way up to Sam as Dean was forced to tilt his head back to look up at his little brother. "Y-Yeah." Dean mumbled as his gaze lowered and he looked away, back at his reflection. Sam suspected that part of Dean's behavior stemmed from the reversal between them, looking up at Sam and all that, but something else was off too. The other's subdued attitude, his almost wailing, panicked behavior, and his oddly more open expressions suggested that Dean was a little...off. Was that normal, given the situation, or was he missing something as he had suspected earlier?

"I'm gonna try and call Dad again." Dean said suddenly as he pulled away and all but darted into the next room and to the motel phone. Sam watched with a slightly pained expression from the doorway at the boy-_his big brother_-who huddled on the corner of his bed and clutched the phone like a life-line. He could mentally fill in the blanks where the rings were, and he knew that John wasn't going to answer. Dean's younger voice filled the air. "Dad...call as soon as you get this, it's kind of...an emergency..so, uh...please...call soon..." Dean usually left brisk messages, but this was almost pleading before he hung up the phone and sat in silence a moment as he stared down at his hands, flexing and unflexing them.

Sam still wasn't sure what to do or to say at that point, but he made his way over to Dean's bed and sat down beside his brother silently. And for a moment, it was in that silence that the brothers simply sat next to each other before green eyes tilted slowly up to brown ones. "So...when you said we switched ages yesterday, y'think...it..."

"I think we're still switching..." Sam admitted, and something occurred to him as he fished out his I.D. The year of birth had gone back...three years. "Three years...plus the four from yesterday...so I'm...twenty, and you're...ten."

Dean's expression scrunched up in something like pain. "So you're ten years older now." It wasn't a question, just a miserable statement.

Sam hastened to reassure the other. "Only physically...but I mean...nothing else has changed, right? We'll fix this...don't think you get to get out of being my big brother just 'cause I had a growth spurt." he joked.

Dean smiled weakly at the attempt, but it didn't nearly reach his eyes. "Yeah? Well, don't you think you get to get out of being my nerdy little brother either."

Sam playfully shoved Dean's shoulder, but the combination of not knowing his own strength and Dean's smaller form offering no resistance nearly sent the other off the bed. "Shoot-Crap-Sorry, I wasn't-"

"-It's fine, Sammy. Relax." Dean said evenly, but he didn't meet Sam's gaze as his gaze fell on the clock on the nightstand. He'd disengaged the alarm, no need for it now, because there was no way in Hell that they were going to school like this whether something wanted them to or not. Where the Hell would they go? At ten, Dean wouldn't be in middle school, and Sam at twenty wouldn't been in high school. "...We don't know how much longer this'll last anyway, so...we should...get some new clothes. And then the library...do some research." he muttered.

The thought of going out looking the way he did, and the necessity of getting new clothes, was mortifying. Dean couldn't think of a damn thing that could do something like this. No lore, no monster, no myth he'd ever heard of came remotely _close_. And moreover, who, or what, would be screwing with them? Was it something that knew their father, maybe? But why not just try to kill them? He couldn't figure out the point of the age-regressing crap. Maybe if both boys were getting smaller-and thereby weaker-but it was only Dean and Sam, if anything, was getting stronger.

Nothing made any damned sense.

"Yeah, good idea." Sam agreed, before he added lightly. "If you want me to go out alone-"

Dean tilted his head and shot Sam a faint glare. "Like I'm letting your clumsy ass go out alone, Godzilla."

Sam gave an indignant huff, but again, he was relieved. He didn't know what to do with an upset Dean, to be honest. Sure, when Dean got pissed, he could calm him. And Sam sure as Hell knew how to push his big brother's buttons. Dean's moods he could read easily enough, and respond accordingly. But this? Dean didn't cry, he didn't get all...'girly'...he didn't seek out comfort. Dean held Sam when _he _cried, and it was Sam who ended up trying to get them to talk things out if needed, and Sam who went to Dean for comfort. He wasn't sure how to properly take care of an older brother like _that_, least of all one who would just push away his attempts anyway. It wasn't like he didn't know how to comfort that sort of thing. But to do it for Dean? Hugging Dean was like hugging a porcupine these days.

By the time Sam let those thoughts ebb for the moment, Dean was already pulling on Sam's shoes, which were now seated awkwardly on Dean's feet. Small as Sam was, he'd always had large feet. "Ya just had to have freaky feet, didn'tcha?" Dean shook his head.

"Not my fault!" Sam protested as he started getting ready as well. The near-excitement he'd felt at the new experience of wearing his big brother's shoes [something he'd playfully done a few times in his younger years, much to Dean's affectionate amusement], was now non-existent. How much younger would his big brother get?

...

"You're joking, right?" Dean's gaze on Sam was withering.

The walk out had been uneventful, although it had taken a little longer than expected to reach the part of town that would have the right stores. Someplace that they could scrounge up some cheap clothing. They didn't pass anyone that they recognized [what few such people that there were] and Dean escaped patronization for the time being. [Not that it stopped Sam from getting a few more of those 'come hither' glances, much to Dean's irritation].

Once in the store, they had agreed that it might be best to prepare for the worst and buy an outfit each suitable for their current ages, and a pair of shoes and clothes in the next size up, or down, in Dean's case. Dean could always double up socks to make the shoes fit better. And they hoped that Sam wasn't going to have any more growth spurts, least of all in the feet area. As it was, it seemed odd for him to grow at all at that age but apparently his body was working overtime to make up for his runty childhood, as Dean put it during their walk.

"What? You love Batman."

"Dude. Put it away. Now."

Sam rolled his eyes and very deliberately stuck the shirt in with the others he had. It was a clearance shirt, a mere two dollars, and was a plain black shirt with the Batman insignia on the front and a strip of yellow made to look like a little Batman utility belt. It was cheap, it was suitable for if Dean got any smaller...and come on, who was Dean kidding? Sam knew that his brother had a secret thing for two things: Cowboys...and Batman.

Dean scowled, and Sam shook his head. "There's not much of a selection, Dean, unless My Little Pony sounds better..."

Dean didn't even dignify that with a response.

They got the pair of shoes one size smaller for Dean. They were a little tight, but that was workable, and if he did lose another three years [and Sam didn't even want to think about that] they had gotten the pack of extra-thick socks just in case. All purchased using the emergency stash of cash their father had left them. There wasn't much left over, but they didn't have much of a choice either. Still, Dean had some money he'd recently hustled at a bar he'd snuck his way into, so there was that.

Sam left in a new pair of shoes, a pair of jeans, a simple white shirt, and a blue-denim jacket. Dean left in a new pair of shoes, a pair of jeans, a black shirt that read 'ACDC' [much to Dean's smug delight-that had been a pretty lucky find], and a plaid long-sleeve. Not really anything different than he would have chosen as a kid, there weren't many options so of course Dean would go with what was familiar.

And the fact that Dean had actually looked excited and grinned, and been singing 'Highway to Hell' all the way to the check-out counter while bobbing his head to his mental music was...not odd at all. Dean would totally do that...

...When he was ten years old.

In fact, Dean was still humming the song to himself and Sam tried not to read too much into it. "Dean?"

"Mmm...yeah, Sammy?" Dean tilted his head up to Sam with a contented look on his face that concerned Sam immensely. One ACDC shirt and his brother had gone from miserable to carefree? No way. Dean should be bitching his lungs out, he should be pissed, and frustrated, and upset [and rightly so], but this...

"Uh...are you...feeling alright?"

Dean blinked and then his brow furrowed slowly like he thought Sam might be a little nutty. "...Yeah? I feel fine, dude. Except for...y'know, getting shrunk...but yeah, fine."

He was talking like Dean, more or less, but the attitude...how could Dean be taking this so calmly? As it was, Sam felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. [He'd read up on those recently].

"Why? Somethin' wrong with you?" Dean had suddenly stopped, and he peered up at Sam in concern. Sam told himself it was just Dean looking like a kid that brought back those memories to mind, of when Dean had been less cocky and more...well, he'd still been cocky-but he'd also been more open. He didn't put on such a tough-guy act when they were kids, sure they fought and stuff, but Dean took care of him. And he still did, but...it was different. Same big brother, same love, but...a different way of showing it.

This seemed...more like the old way. And Sam told himself it was all in his mind, because he didn't want to think about the consequences of it not being so. "Nothing, just making sure you're okay...are you?"

The dry look Dean gave him was purely his older brother, and immensely relieving to Sam. "I'm half the size of my _little_ brother. D'ya _think_ I'm okay?" he punched his brother's side lightly. "Jeez, you girl."

"Well forgive me for caring."

Dean snorted and then he looked down at the concrete before he added softly. "Thanks for that, though, Sammy."

Sam nearly missed a step, uncertain if he'd heard correctly. "Dean-"

"-Finally! Took damned forever to get over here." Dean scrutinized the library before him. It wasn't all that big, but if it had anything that could help...well, that would be more than they had already.

Sam frowned down at Dean, and he wasn't quite ready to end the conversation, but Dean was already bounding up the steps and heading in.

"Daylight's wasting, Sammy, hop to it." Dean made an impatient gesture and Sam found himself following with that nagging feeling in his gut. The last time he'd had that feeling, Dean had wound up with an arm broken after there had ended up being two ghouls, the time before that John had gotten a nasty head wound, and the time before that...well, it went on.

Sam just hoped that he was wrong.

...

_Swish. Tap. Clack. Swish. _ Repeat.

Sam watched from the corner of his eyes as Dean, across from him at the table, twirled a pencil and hit it on the table before tipping it up to twirl it again. A repetitive gesture that he seemed to be trying to repeat faster and faster. And had been doing so for nearly three minutes, after about forty minutes of research. If one could call Dean's fidgeting, motions, and fascination with just about anything but his books...research.

"Dean." No response. "_Dean_."

Dean jumped a little and the pencil clattered to the table. "Huh? Find something?"

Sam stared hard at Dean a moment, trying to see if he could pinpoint something different physically but...this Dean was ten years old, and he'd had seven years to learn big Dean gestures. These were...just different no matter how one looked at it. "No...but you seemed...distracted."

Dean blinked and then glanced down at the pencil. "Oh. No...I was just trying to do it in less than thirty seconds. Five times." Dean explained like it made perfect sense. "I got pretty close. Twenty-eight seconds." he said a bit smugly. He noticed Sam staring at him like he'd grown a third eye or something, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What? I got somethin' on my face?"

"Dean..." Sam hesitated, not wanting to offend or upset his brother, but... "Are you sure...that you feel alright? You're just acting a little...different..?"

"Different how?" Dean said, and his frown was instantaneous as his eyes narrowed on Sam.

"...Uh...well...more like...a..."

"A _what_, Sam?"

"..."

"What was that?

"A...kid." Sam mumbled. "Like you used to act I mean...just...sort of..." It was Dean's turn to shoot Sam a 'third-eye' look and he shoved his nose back into the book in front of him, so to speak. "Nevermind."

Dean said nothing, but Sam could feel his brother's gaze on him and then he heard Dean's book close. "You think...that's possible?"

"Huh?" Sam's gaze shot up.

"If something...shrunk my body, you think it...could..." Dean trailed off and he fiddled with the pencil on the table as he avoided Sam's gaze.

Sam watched his brother a moment before he said gently. "Dean...if you think something changed, you gotta tell me, man..."

Dean stared down at the table for a long, silent moment, and then his gaze flicked to Sam's. "Maybe, okay? I dunno. I still feel like me...I _am_ me...but...I dunno, I can't think straight." he wasn't sure how else to describe it. His thoughts just came out wrong. Like the cute chick they'd passed studying, she'd given Sam _the look_, she was gorgeous, but Dean found himself thinking that she was 'pretty' and he'd had no further interest in her. And it wasn't the first time since he'd woken up that weird things like that had happened. Dean had thought he was just a little off because of his current situation, but Sam's words made him wonder if something worse was going on. "Dad will call. He'll know what to do." Dean mumbled.

"...We'll keep looking though, just in case, okay, Dean?"

Dean's green eyes flicked up to Sam's brown ones, and then he nodded before he added with a wry chuckle. "I'm kinda surprised...that you want to fix this."

Sam blinked, now it was his turn to ask. "What do you mean?"

"You hate being a 'kid', remember? And now you're a giant..." Dean shrugged.

"Dean, this is...I mean, sure, it's cool getting to grow up but not if it means you're like this...I wouldn't leave you like this, Dean...you know that, right?" he regarded his brother seriously, a bit hurt that the other would imply otherwise.

Dean met Sam's gaze silently as though thinking it over before he chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. You'd be lost without me, I know."

But rather than accept Dean's dismissal of the conversation with humor, Sam prodded. "I would be, Dean. You're my big brother. I don't want to lose you."

Dean stiffened and focused his gaze on Sam's book a second before he ran a hand through his newly-grown curls. "Alright, alright...don't get all girly about it...you won't lose me, Sammy. Someone's gotta watch out for a nerd like you."

Sam sighed, but he knew it was as good as he was likely to get. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean gave a mini-salute in response before he returned his attentions to the books at hand and tried to glean some information from them, but before long, he found his hand snaking out for the pencil...

...Which was promptly snatched away by Sam.

"Hey! That's my pencil." Dean complained.

"It's the library's pencil. Focus, Dean."

"Don't tell me what to do." Dean said a bit sullenly.

"Dean, we're doing this research to fix you."

"And you." Dean reminded him.

"So then maybe a little more research and a little less...pencil-spinning?"

"It helps me focus. I can't help it anyway, these books are boring." Dean crossed his arms and mildly glared down at his book.

Sam recognized the behavior for what they'd reasoned it to be: Dean's age affecting his behavior. How much worse would it get? And worse still...if it affected his memories...Sam didn't even want to think of that. Sam reluctantly passed the pencil back to Dean, who brightened.

"Finally seeing things my way?" Dean grinned faintly as he began spinning the pencil again. "Maybe if you're lucky, I'll teach you."

Sam smiled weakly. "Lucky, huh?" he let his gaze fall back on his book and he tried to ignore the way the letters blurred as his eyes watered. His big brother was, undeniably, becoming a child in more than just form and if it were allowed to continue and his brother lost anymore of himself...would they be able to make Dean whole again? Sam had to believe that they would, there could be no alternative.

Sam would not lose his big brother.

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***Two days later or so* I was going to finish up the day and then the next chap would be the morrow and a certain hunter coming to our boys' rescue...BUT! It seemed like a good place to end. And I wanted to get a chapter posted. [I need to clean my room ;-; ] XD I got way distracted and my plans to write these past days were..thwarted. XD [I.E. Attention span of a wall+distractions=Witchy fail] XD And the state fair is in town, so I'll be there tonight, and back to workkkk all the rest...Next day off will be not this Saturday, but the next. I intend to do my merry best to keep up writing...but the likelihood of this being finished by Halloween is dwindling...hopefully though, that won't merit complaint. That just means more story for you, right? XD Poor Dean, he's losing his mind...he still has all of his memories, but his kid-side is reigning over the rest, or trying, anyway. XD I talked to that Irish-dude, and he confirmed that Sam is himself, patronizing Dean was just a bit of brotherly-nonsense. XD Thanks for the support, m'dears, AND I STILL NEED SOMEONE TO EXPLAIN TAG/GEN/CODA. Please? -insert Sam's puppy eyes here- XD -Witchy~**


	6. A Promise Between Brothers

**Happy Halloween, m'dears! I adore you all endlessly. And kissacazador, thank you for all of your faves, alerts, and reviews. Your dedication brightens my soullll. Adeu, your review brought me intense joy. XD And enlightenment, incidentally. As for adult-ish qualites on Sam, I thought about it, but then I realized he hasn't been an adult yet so where would those traits be drawn from? I could be crafty and figure something out, but we'll see. XD Astafir, you rock my socks by existing. So you know. XD And yeah...he never got to be a kid [past four], but he did have his kid-moments. Like playing vid-games which resulted in the Shtriga coming after Sam, and the Lucky Charms incident and the Supernatural Christmas...so he won't end up being too childish [until he hits that age], but he definitely has child-aspects. Lune? What can I say. -insert hug here- you are bombastic to the umpteenth degree. And now that I've given all of this review love...TIS TIME TO WRITE ME SOME WINCHESTER BROS! XD By the way, this last ep when Sam walked away from Dean...I wanted to cry. And I miss my Cas. -angst-sorrow-angst- XD**

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Dean was depressed. Or glum. Or melanchauly. Or completely miserable. The list went on. All Sam knew was that after three more hours of pouring through books to no avail, his brother's somewhat chipper, attention-lacking mood had developed into gloom. It was written all over Dean's quiet expression, the faint slump of his shoulders, and the way his lips had twisted in disappointment when they hadn't found so much as a clue and the library had informed them that they were closing for the day.

And Sam had no idea, even still, how to comfort his big brother.

After all, what was he supposed to say? 'You'll probably get smaller when we wake up tomorrow, but don't worry, I'm here for you, bro'? Sam doubted that or anything similar would go over well, and what else could he possibly say? But he couldn't let Dean mope either, he was aching for his brother, he really was. Dean was the strong one, he always kept his cool, and Sam had only really seen him lose his composure after a few hunts gone wrong. [Some with him, and some were their father alone]. So to see him so uncharacteristically down, and with the realization that he seemed to be slipping into his age-role even slightly...it was more than upsetting. It was painful to see. And then the answer to a temporary fix came to him in bright, red and yellow glass-paint with a steamy picture on the front.

A steamy picture of a pie, that is.

"Dean!" Sam was momentarily carried away by the thrill of the sudden idea, and then he said more evenly. "Pie." Very eloquent.

Dean's head tilted up to Sam as his brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh? Uh...you want some pie?" he guessed.

Sam shook his head and pointed. "That cafe, it's the first place I've seen selling pie here...you wanna go?" Dean loved his pies, after all, and while it was in no way a solution...if it lifted Dean from his funk for even a moment, then it was worth the diversion.

If he'd had any doubts about Dean being in said funk, they were alleviated the moment that Dean spoke.

"Nah...I'm not really hungry."

Dean. Not in the mood for pie. And not hungry.

Not good.

Sam and Dean started to walk past the cafe and he slowed as he motioned to the door. "You sure...? I mean, we're here...and you love pie, so..."

Dean's lips curved into a faint frown as he looked up at the cheerily painted display and then his gaze fell on Sam briefly before he relented. "Y'know what? Pie sounds great, Sammy." he made a gesture towards the door and grinned. "Ladies first."

"Gee, thanks." Sam muttered, a faint smile on his lips as he opened the door and headed in, making sure to allow Dean through before it closed. It seemed that Dean was cheering up already. Pie was Dean's kryptonite. One of them, anyway.

...

Dean was miserable. He knew he was miserable. And apparently, he'd let Sammy know he was miserable. He knew because the kid's face was all pinched up and worried, and he was offering Dean pie with this hopeful, Sammy-looking face that seemed odd on the adult body. Dean really wasn't hungry, he felt sick to his stomach, to be honest. But he wasn't gonna share that information with Sam, or get him any more worried than he already was.

So he'd eat the damn pie, and he'd act like it was the best pie he'd ever tasted.

For Sammy.

...

Things, however, were not going so well. Sam tried not to wince as the perky hostess offered Dean a kid's menu, which he declined with as much cool grace as a ten-year could possibly muster. Dean didn't so much as look at Sam as he slid into his seat and sat with his knees folded under him so that he could reach the table better. Sam didn't take that as a good sign, but when Dean finally did look over at him, he was smiling. That was something, at least.

"Hello! My name is Lynette, I'll be your waitress today...what can I getcha to drink?" The red-head was around Dean's age, pretty, with red hair and a pleasantly curved body, not to mention, a killer face. Blue doe eyes and big lips, and even Sam had to admit that for a bit of an older woman, she was pretty cute.

But Dean scarcely spared her a glance as he mulled over his menu and ordered simply. "Coke, cheeseburger, and a slice of apple pie. Thanks." he added, all in the same tone of voice and without really even looking at the woman.

The waitress lifted a brow and tilted her head to Sam with a patient smile. "Any problems with the little man's order?" There were plenty of people who didn't allow kids to have soda, or order their dessert, after all. To say nothing of those who chose their kids' meals for them.

Dean gritted his teeth at her words, and Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Ah...no. He can have whatever he wants...and, uh...I'll take the same. Please."

Lynette's smile didn't leave, and she jotted the orders down on her little notepad. "Got it. I'll have that right out for ya." she headed off and Dean fiddled with his fork beside him.

Sam hesitated and then mumbled. "Sorry, Dean...I thought maybe this would cheer you up," he admitted, "But..."

Dean's green eyes lifted then and the boy gave a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey, don't worry, kiddo. This is great, thanks, Sammy." And for a moment, if Sam just focused on those words, and on those familiar, green eyes...he could pretend that Dean was Dean, that he was seventeen-going-on-eighteen, and the bigger brother the way a big brother should be, and that this wasn't happening.

But then the moment ended, and he was forced to own up to the fact that the slightly hunched, small form was in fact his big brother. And he, looking like a giant, was to blame. Sam wasn't sure what had happened, or why, but he'd gathered that Dean's age was ending up with him somehow, it seemed, and so he blamed himself. After all, it couldn't be happening without Sam, right?

He felt something hit his leg, and Sam blinked as he realized that Dean had kicked him. "Don't think so much, buddy. I told ya, I'm fine, alright?"

"...Dean..." Sam couldn't really reply, but he tried to convey his feelings into that one name. His worry, and his sorrow on his brother's behalf, and his own guilt over it.

Whatever Dean might have gleaned from it, he frowned at Sam and leaned over on the table a bit to glare faintly at Sam. "Hey, knock it off. This ain't your fault, Sam. I'm not mad at you, got it? But I will be if you keep walking on eggshells. We'll fix this, right, isn't that what you promised?" Dean didn't care much for promises, he'd seen too many get broken, and he wasn't counting on Sam to fix him...but he figured the words would comfort Sam and sure enough, the boy-turned-man straightened a bit and gave a mute nod. That meant that he didn't really buy Dean's words, and he sighed. "Sammy. It's okay. I'm okay. We'll figure this out."

Sam's brown eyes finally lifted to meet Dean's, and he lifted his brows in an unspoken question. _You okay?_

Sam stared at his older brother a moment before he nodded. "We will. We'll fix this."

"Damn straight." Dean said firmly as he sat back, just in time for the food to arrive. "Hallej-freaking-lujah, some pie." he said with satisfaction, and he aimed a grin at Sam who seemed to hesitate before he smiled back.

A slight scrunch of Lynette's nose suggested that she didn't care much for Dean's 'language', but she kept her smile. "Pie, burgers, and cokes. Can I get you anything else?"

Dean, wanting to comfort Sam, feigned an action he wasn't really feeling and put on as charming a smile as he could muster. "How about your phone number, doll-face?"

"Aha, you're a cutie, aren'tcha? Did your big brother put you up to this?" Lynette winked at Sam, who's amused expression fell quickly.

Dean's smile froze on his lips and Sam filled in the silence. "Ah...you caught me..." Sam said weakly, if only to distract her from Dean.

"Well, that's pretty sneaky, using your little brother...but it's cute too.." Lynette glanced around and then leaned over, giving Sam an obvious view of her cleavage as she penned her number down on a napkin. "If there's anything you need, let me know." And with a wink at Dean, oblivious to her mistakes, she sauntered off.

Silence descended on the table and Sam mentally berated himself for ever thinking that this was a good idea. Dean was going to be more upset and miserable and it was all his fault. If only he'd-

"Try some pie, Sam. It kicks ass." Dean announced through a mouthful of warm apple pie.

Sam blinked and he found himself eyeing his brother, trying to gauge his mood. But Dean's expression was content and there was no sign of disturbance at what had just occurred. Sam knew it hadn't been missed by Dean though, and he suspected that his older brother was putting on a show for his benefit. Typical Dean. For now though, it was best that he went along with it. So Sam helped himself to a bit of his pie and swallowed before he spoke. "Mmm...that's really good pie..." he tried to sound enthusiastic, but it wasn't easy for any number of reasons, the least of which was the pressing matter of the whole situation hanging over his now-larger head.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "I've told ya, Sammy. Pie is proof there is a God and he occasionally gives a damn. So you respect the pie, and you enjoy it, you got it?"

Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry, and he settled for a smile that was at least partially genuine. "Got it, Dean." he said before he took a large bite of pie and nearly choked on it.

Dean shook his head. "You're such a baby."

"Mm'nodt..." Sam protested through a mouthful of pie before he swallowed it and gave an apple-sticky grin. "It is good pie though."

Dean smiled, faintly but truly, and Sam smiled back softly. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

Pie never failed.

...

The first thing Dean had done when they'd arrived back at the motel was to check the phone for any messages. None of which, there were.

Sam tried not to make his concern obvious, but once again, he could visibly see Dean's mood wither and saw the way his shoulders hunched up a bit as he sat vaguely curled up on the edge of the bed. Well, screw tip-toeing around it, if Dean punched him-he could live with that.

He made his way over to the bed and slid in beside Dean before he slipped an arm around Dean's shoulders and just let it rest there.

Dean stiffened in surprise and then he frowned up at Sam as he started to pull away. "Dude-"

Sam clenched his fingers around Dean's small shoulder and kept him in place. He could see irritation flicker in Dean's expression and he interrupted the other's likely protest. "I promise you, Dean...I _promise_ you: we'll fix this."

Dean's irritation became something vaguely like exasperation, and then something a little more bleak. "This is weird, even for us, Sam...there was nothing at the library and Dad's not answering...we're kind of out of options here..."

Sam's expression was stern as he spoke firmly. "We're not out of options. We'll figure something out. Something had to have done this, I'll hunt it myself if I have t-"

"The _Hell_ you will." Dean growled.

It was Sam's turn to be mildly irritated, even though he knew that Dean was just worried abotu him. "I can handle myself, Dean."

"That's great, Sam. I repeat. The _Hell_ you will."

"If it means finding a way to fix you-"

"-I'm not the only one who needs to be fixed."

"I _know_ that, Dean, but it's worse for you. You can't tell me it's not." Sam pointed out.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean said stubbornly.

"And the pencil-game? And the _singing_?"

"I sing all the time." Dean protested defensively.

"Not when something like this is going on..." And while having been completely miserable just moments before. Sam, in his own welling frustration, just came out with it. "Dean, you looked like you were going to cry earlier-"

At that, Dean bristled immediately and he jerked out of Sam's grasp. "I _was not_ going to cry, Sam." Dean growled. "I'm still _me_."

"Which you?" Sam shot back. "The Dean that's seventeen, or the Dean that's ten?" Sam wasn't sure where the words came from, but he regretted them the moment that he said them.

Dean flinched and recoiled as though struck, and for a moment, he stared at Sam with an oddly hurt expression before said expression flat-lined and he rose from the bed. He didn't look at Sam as he muttered. "Whatever this is-it's getting to both of us. You're bitchier than usual, anyway. Let's just call it quits for the night, huh?" he started to walk away, but Sam grabbed Dean's arm and tugged him back.

"Sam-" there was a warning in Dean's tone as his eyes narrowed on Sam's.

"Dean, I'm sorry...I don't...I'm just...kinda shaky right now." For lack of a better term. "I'm sorry about what I said.."

"Yeah? You were sorry yesterday too."

"I mean it, Dean..."

"Same here, kid."

Silence passed between the brothers a moment before Sam bit his lip and looked away as he released Dean's arm. "...I don't want you stuck this way, Dean." he finally said. "I really don't."

Dean was silent a moment before he replied. "Well. Thanks for that."

Silence passed between them again before Dean apparently decided to take pity on his decidedly remorseful looking little brother, and he punched the other's shoulder lightly. "Let's just get to bed, Sammy, alright?"

Brown eyes tilted to meet green ones, and Sam nodded slowly before he whispered. "We'll fix you, Dean."

Dean eyed his little brother a moment before he inclined his head and said softly. "Damn straight."

They would fix this, whatever this was.

And then Dean was gonna kill whatever evil son of a bitch had done it to begin with.

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**I considered ending it on 'pie never failed' XD but that would be fail of me. So...tired...*2:09am and has work at 7am* ;-; NEXT CHAPTER...shall involve the arrival of a certain hunter, more de-aging, and...well, I dunno. But I will say there will be ahead: A Cas cameo [or two XD] a mild Bobby cameo. A villain. Brotherly fluff-love. Awesome!John. Tragic!Dean. Nifty!Sam. And...all kinds of other awesome-crazy stuff. I hope. XD Bwah...I should've had Dean do something more childish [and he will, by the way XD], I feel like Sam is jumping to a lot of conclusions, but then again...Sam is very perceptive and knowing of his big brother so...yeah. XD So, I definitely didn't finish by Halloween...but ya'll forgive me...right? ;-; XD Thank you all for your reviews, faves, and alerts. They truly do brighten my day. I get so excited when I see emails from FF on my phone. XD Thank you all, I adore you all endlessly! Lurve, Witchy~**


	7. Resigned by Duty

**Billa, Asta, Kissa, Lune, Opheliac...why are you all so awesome? Besides the obvious. XD Weird is good, Lune. A weird a day keeps the normal people away. XD Or something. I digress. But you rock for thinking of Dean then. And revel in my hug. XD What kind of pie was it, by the by? I'm glad wee Dean is so well-received. Big Sammy will have his moments too, as soon as Dean buckles down and lets Sammy give him some brothery luvvins. XD Bwahhaha. And my John will be the amazing [if surly] father that we all know he really is. All this John!Rapist/Abuser/Psycho/Pedo-bear crap pisses me off. As do Dean/Ruby fics. Those make me sick. And stories that leave Dean or Sam permanently de-aged, animalized, girl-ified, or something similar. I HATE those. They torment my soul. : / I digress again! Off to writing! And thank you, m'dears! Even those not named here! XD**

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_Fire. Fire everywhere. And something foul in his mouth, what was that taste? And bright, yellow eyes in the darkness. Memories just beyond his reach, but close enough to the surface to torment his sleeping mind. So three-year old Sam, understanding none of it, screamed. _

_"Sammy! Sam!" A voice was urgent in his ear, persistent, and the three-year old snapped awake with a lunge on instinct as small arms gripped his brother tightly. _

_Seven-year old Dean held the toddler close, squeezing the small, trembling form against his own scrawny chest as he stroked his hair and rocked him, whispering soothingly all the while. He'd heard his brother's scream and come running, just like he always had, and just like he always would. Dean took care of Sammy, his baby brother._

_"Hey, it's okay, buddy...it's okay...I'm here...s'okay, Sammy..." Dean soothed, and the boy sobbed and gave a watery hiccup against his shoulder. The older boy scrunched his nose when Sam wiped his nose on Dean's shirt and snuffled against his shoulder, but he didn't pull away, instead he held Sam tighter and let him do what he needed to._

_"Bad, Dee..." Sam whimpered, in reference to his dream. He'd learned to pronounce 'Dean' more or less, but they'd noted that he seemed to prefer 'Dee' much the way Dean preferred 'Sam' or 'Sammy'. _

_John was in the doorway and had paused to let Dean comfort Sam a bit before he stepped in and took a spot beside the boys on the bed. _

_"Daddy!" The boy tugged away from Dean to launch himself at John, who scooped the boy up and held him close as he stroked his hair._

_"Bad dream, kiddo?" John's voice was in one of it's rare, softer moments as he stroked Sam's hair and the boy turned his snuffling to his father's chest. _

_"Mmhmm." Sam gave a mumbled affirmative as he whimpered again, and Dean rubbed his hand up and down against Sam's back. _

_"What was the dream about?" John asked gently._

_Sam just whimpered and shook his head, and whispered. "Bad." _

_John and Dean exchanged a silent glance before Dean ran his fingers through Sammy's small mop of hair. "It's okay, Sammy, I promise. We won't let anythin' bad getcha." Sam shot Dean a still-troubled look and Dean added with a confident smile as he brushed his knuckles against Sam's cheek- "If anythin' tries, we'll kick their butts." _

_"Promise?" The toddler repeated the word carefully, like he thought getting it wrong would mean that he wouldn't get the promise. _

_"We promise." John confirmed as he kissed Sam's head, and started to lay him down. But the boy's small fists were clenched in his shirt and he sighed softly before he gave in to the inevitable and wrapped an arm around Sam and motioned Dean over into his other one. Dean eagerly clambered up and scooched his way into John's free arm, and the boys found themselves on either side of their father. _

_Sam snuggled in and then his little head poked up as he sniffled. "Dee?" _

_"I'm here, Sammy." The older boy reassured him as he slid his hand across John's stomach and held Sam's small hand lightly. _

_Sam gripped it back and gave a wobbly smile. "Love Dee an' Daddy.." the toddler burrowed into John's side, and both John and Dean smiled._

_"Love ya too, Sammy." _

_"I love you both...very much.." John said gruffly, but softly as he tightened his grip on his boys a bit as he settled in. He could hold off on research till the morning, for now, his little boy needed him and Dean could use a good rest himself. _

_Dean and Sam smiled, their hands still gripped together in the dark motel room, and John allowed himself a vague smile as he drifted off to sleep, the first peaceful sleep he'd had in months, just sleeping as a family. And that night, and many after, Sam had no more nightmares, and nothing bad troubled him._

_His Daddy and his big brother would kick their butts, after all._

...

The dream played through his mind's eye as Sam awoke. He shouldn't be able to remember something from then, when he was just three-years old, but apparently he did and the memory put a tight pain in his chest. For one thing, John didn't do things like that any more and for another...Dean was just...Dean. He couldn't really put it into words, but Dean was his big brother and saying that meant something different than when most other kids-er-young adults said it. Dean was his _big brother_, and that meant...everything to him.

_"I'm here, Sammy." _

The memory of the dream that was apparently a memory threatened to bring a fresh sting of tears into his eyes. When had things changed? When had John become so cold, and Dean become so much like John, and when had Sam just felt so...apart from it all? From his _family_?

Sam's eyes flitted over the clock beside the bed. It was only five in the morning, he'd woken up early-apparently.

But when the lights of the room flickered on and he saw the man who'd just entered in the doorway, he knew why.

John Winchester, his hat pulled over his head, had just flicked on the lights and dropped his duffel when his eyes locked with Sam's. There was a brief moment of surprised silence before John had whipped a gun out of his back pocket and aimed it lethally and efficiently at Sam. "Who the Hell are you?" he snarled coldly.

Sam's eyes shot open wide. "D-Dad! It's me! I'm Sam!" he scrambled to sit up and move out of the bed, and stopped, surprised to find he'd managed to grow even a bit more. What the Hell? He really was a giant, or making up for years of being small for his age, or something. Dean was going to laugh his ass off. Someday, when this was fixed and he got over his little brother eventually being taller than him.

He heard the rustle of sheets as Dean jerked awake. "Dad! Hold up! That's Sammy!" he cried hoarsely, voice thick from being jarred from sleep, and entirely too...young for Sam's liking as Dean sat up and the sheets fell from his neck.

"Oh, God...Dean.." Sam's voice was a horrified whisper as pain blossomed anew on his brother's behalf.

Now, even though they'd gotten them a bit tight, Dean's clothes hung loosely on him yet again. His form was slight, scrawny and with the same mess of freckles and curly-hair, albeit a lighter, more blonde shade. Dean had gotten even smaller, because he'd gotten even younger, and if the same rules applied as had yesterday-Dean was now only seven years old.

His big brother was seven years old.

Dean blinked at Sam until he looked down at himself and paled as he lifted a hand and clenched and unclenched it. Small hands echoed his movements and there was no denying that they were his own hands, albeit much changed. His voice sounded foreign to his ears, and everything just felt wrong: different. Dean didn't feel strong, he didn't feel like himself, he felt like a prisoner trapped in a body that was just...just wrong. And moreover, Sam had gotten bigger, older, and now...where did that leave him? What did Sam think of him? What was John going to think of him? He swallowed hard and his small frame shook slightly. "S-Shit..." he whispered helplessly.

"Dean?" John stared at his son like he'd seen a ghost, and in a way, hadn't he? He hadn't seen his son this young in a little over ten years, after all.

Dean seemed mortified suddenly and he ducked his head a bit, ashamed that his father was seeing him this way. It wasn't like he hadn't seen Dean as a kid before, but he _wasn't_ a kid anymore. This was a failure on his part, he and Sam were messed up, which meant that Dean had failed to protect Sammy. "More or less." he replied to his father with bitter humor.

John looked from Dean to Sam and back again, and then he lifted the gun up once more. Dean tensed and Sam jerked slightly. "I want answers, and they'd better be good." John said coldly. He was entirely too much a hunter, too well-trained, and too skeptical to just believe what he saw with his own eyes. Because, truth was, they weren't always right. "You're my sons?" he clarified, and there was skepticism lacing his voice too.

Dean and Sam exchanged a wary glance and both nodded.

"How'd this happen?" John demanded.

Dean hesitated then spoke up first. "We woke up this way a couple days ago...well, not this way...we've been...I've been..." he trailed off and Sam eyed his brother sympathetically before he faced his father and took over.

"I think we're switching ages. Dean's been getting younger, and I've been getting older. Dean called, you didn't answer." There was a faint accusation in his tone, and John's eyes narrowed at the same time that Dean winced. This was not the time to be pissy with John Winchester.

But oddly enough, that seemed to reassure John a bit. Sam had grown snarky of late and John was getting accustomed-although was not okay with-Sam's...rebellious habits. John ignored the slight accusation and promptly turned the gun towards Dean as he cocked the safety off and put his finger on the trigger.

"Dean!" Sam scrambled out of bed and promptly all but dove onto Dean's as he shoved the other down. He waited for something, anything, but all he heard was John's gun click off as he pocketed it and watched the pair with a frown. Sam tilted his head towards his father, confused, and then he felt Dean's small fist connect with his shoulder as he punched it.

"You idiot! Why'd you do that?" Dean demanded.

"He was gonna shoot you, Dean!"

"So you jump in front of me? I'll kick your ass!" the boy shouted in reply as he glared up at Sam, who glared right back. "It's not your job to take a bullet for me."

"The Hell it's not." he mimicked a phrase of his brother's defiantly, and Dean scowled.

"Sam-"

"Both of you, knock it off." John growled from the doorway, and the boys jumped. Dean shifted and looked properly chastised, and Sam just frowned at his father.

"You didn't shoot." Sam noted.

John paused before he came closer as he replied. "I didn't have to, I was gauging your reactions."

Understanding dawned on the younger Winchesters, and they exchanged a glance before John reached the side of the bed and eyed them both carefully. Dean looked just as he'd used to, but Sam...this was new. Sam rose after a moment, and he found that he was actually a little taller than their father. Dean's brows lifted slightly, and John simply frowned before he asked again, wanting a better answer. "How'd this happen?"

Sam and Dean exchanged another glance before Sam muttered. "We're not sure...we just woke up different. It's been getting worse, Dean was ten yesterday, and thirteen before that. Our-my-license changed." he added helpfully. Dean was too young to have a license to change now.

"You don't have a license." John noted.

Sam shuffled around the table and produced it, the birth year now three years earlier yet again as he said grimly. "I do now."

John examined the license as his frown darkened. What in the Hell kind of monster could spark changes like these? And so quickly to boot?

"We can fix this, right?" Sam asked suddenly, and John's eyes slid up towards Sam's. He could see the hope there, that desperation. He didn't doubt that Sam was worried about Dean, and as it was, John was worried about both of his boys. But unfortunately, he had no answers-and he wasn't the type to lie. Not to his sons, not like this.

"We're going to try." was the best that John could do, and it hurt more than he cared to admit that although Sam seemed disappointed, he didn't look surprised, like he expected little of John even though he'd hoped for it. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Dean's body slump a bit, and he could tell the kid was trying not to betray his own concerns and fears in his expression. Dean was tough, he kept his problems to himself.

Sam knew his brother well though, and he wasn't fooled by Dean's attempt at a stoic face. He cast John a glance before he sat down beside Dean and moved to set a hand on his shoulder. "Dean-"

Especially now, with their father watching, after having failed to boot-Dean wasn't going to allow any moments of 'weakness'. Dean shrugged away from Sam and said evenly, ignoring Sam as he addressed their father. "We did some research. Couldn't find anything."

John tried not to note the look of hurt on Sam's face as he lowered his hand and watched his brother with a frown. John took a seat on the bed across from the boys, and it was all he could do not to wince as he sat down. He hadn't slept in a day and a half, beneath his heavy clothing he was bruised all over, his body felt limp and fatigued, and he had a splitting head ache. But he wasn't going to bitch and moan about it, he was going to find a way to fixed his sons and put this damned mess behind them. "When did it start?"

Dean and Sam both seemed to consider it before Dean blanched suddenly and John noted that his eldest son looked decidedly guilty. "...Couple days ago, when we woke up this way.." there was a mild hesitation in his words, and he noted also that Sam seemed surprised by it, like he didn't know what it was that Dean seemed to be hesitating to mention.

"Dean?" John prodded.

Dean flinched lightly and then admitted. "The night before it happened...I found Sam unconscious on the sidewalk-"

"You what?" John's tone was cold, practically glacial, and his eyes had narrowed.

Dean felt his heart plummet into his stomach as he forced himself to continue. "I...he went out for a walk, and when I found him later, he was out there...didn't know why or anythin', right, Sam?"

Sam didn't look all that pleased to have been oh-so-slightly thrown under the bus like that, but he nodded. "I walked out by the park, blacked out, and when I woke up, Dean was there."

"Where was Dean before that?"

Dean visibly winced, apparently this form made him entirely too expressive, and Sam shot an almost apologetic look at Dean. Dean steeled himself and admitted. "I was on a date, I left Sam alone."

John's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, and he was tempted to throttle his eldest son. He'd emphasized the importance of keeping an eye on Sam before he left in particular because John had been hunting a witch and who knew what could happen with that sort of threat around? And he'd gone on a date. Just damned peachy.

But all of his anger fled a bit as he noticed how miserable Dean looked. Doubtless the kid felt guilty enough as it was, and as far as any 'punishment', his eighteen-year old was trapped in a seven-year old's body with his little brother towering over him. John honestly doubted anything he could say or do would be worse than that right now, and there was no reason to try for it. "Don't let it happen again." was all that he said, stern and low.

"Yes, sir." Dean said, decidedly meekly as he kept his gaze fixed on the sheets with his fists clenched around them a bit.

"It's not his fault." Sam spoke up. "I went out when I shouldn't have, so-"

"Drop it, Sam." John cut him off. "It's over, we'll deal with this, and it's not going to happen again. Right?" Sam didn't reply and his gaze had narrowed slightly on his father. "Sam." John's tone was a warning.

After a moment, Sam begrudgingly replied. "Yes, sir."

Sam shot a glance towards Dean, who was still avoiding eye-contact with Sam. John could see that it bothered him, but he suspected that it wasn't an intent to reject Sam's concern. Dean probably felt, for lack of a better term, pathetic at the moment and was likely embarrassed to have Sam seeing him that way. To be unable to be the bigger brother, as it was important to Dean to be.

John fought a yawn as his body tried to forcibly remind him that he needed rest, and badly. He looked between his sons a moment and decided that Sam was going to be more distracted by Dean's attitude at the moment than anything else, and that he at least needed a shower and a drink if he was going to keep moving.

John rose and said gruffly. "I'm gonna shower. You think of anything else important, you be ready to tell me." he advised, and without another word, he grabbed up some clothes from his duffel and headed for the bathroom where he closed and locked the door.

John's composure fell the moment he was behind the door and he faced the mirror grimly. He wiped grimy hands against his face and thought over the situation. Three years each day...what would that mean for Dean if he ran out of years to 'switch', as Sam had put it? And what was capable of this kind of feat? He wasn't sure even a witch would cut it, so what else had enough juice to do so, and why bother?

John took a moment to examine himself in the mirror with a heavy sigh. To say that he looked like Hell warmed over would actually be a compliment, at this point. He looked like a a deranged hobo, at least, that was what he'd gotten call some sixteen hours ago when he'd finished up his case and been caught with a knife by some stuck-up woman. He needed to get cleaned up and sort things out in his mind, and then he'd tackle whatever this was.

...

John shut the bathroom door and for a moment, neither brother said anything. At least, until Dean started to move off the bed and Sam made a quick motion to grab Dean by the wrist. "Dean-"

Dean tried to tug his arm away as he interrupted. "-Don't wanna hear it, Sam. Let go. Damnit, let go!" But Sam's grip on his arm was vice-like, and Dean inhaled sharply in surprise as Sam tugged him closer and grabbed Dean's shoulder as he forced his older brother to sit in front of him and face him.

"I know you're upset, Dean, let me help you-"

"-You've done enough, trust me." Dean spat back as he tried to pull away, but Sam's grip on his shoulder was strong. He lifted his other hand in what seemed about to be an effort to punch him, but Sam caught his small wrist with his free hand. Dean's eyes widened slightly in surprise but as he tried to pull it away, Sam simply kept hold of it and let their hands drop together. "Sam, let go!" Dean's voice raised slightly in pitch as his frustration rose. He didn't like his situation one bit, he didn't like Sam having an upper hand. "Sam, I'm gonna-"

"Dean, just _shut up_ for a second!" Sam suddenly snapped, and Dean went rigid as his eyes widened again in surprise and he stopped jerking about for a moment as he stared up at Sam.

Sam stared down at his big brother, at his small, slightly flushed face, at the messy curls surrounding his face, at those frustrated, familiar green-eyes looking back at him. He knew Dean was hurting and anxious, he knew because not only did he know Dean, but Sam knew that _he_ was freaking out-and his part of this curse or whatever it was was the better end of the stick. If Dean got any smaller...there'd barely be any Dean left, and if he got smaller than that...Sam didn't even want to consider it.

"I know you're upset." Sam tried again, and Dean frowned but didn't interrupt this time. "I am too...you're not the only one freaked out here. And don't say you aren't freaked out, 'cause I know you are." Sam added when he noted that Dean seemed about to protest. "But," and now he felt like a broken record, "We _are_ gonna figure this out. And we're definitely in this together. So quit pushing me away, already...please? I could really use my big brother right now." Sam finished softly, and he knew that that would probably reach Dean better than anything.

Dean bit his lower lip in a gesture that he hadn't seen Dean use in...pretty much ever, and he stared up at Sam like he was mentally debating those words. Sam lifted his hand from Dean's wrist to rest his hand lightly on Dean's shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze.

Dean's angry expression crumbled as some of his uncertainty and agitation crept into his expression, and he hesitantly lifted his hand to close it around Sam's wrist. "You, uh...me being...like this...doesn't..." he didn't seem sure how to proceed and after a moment, it clicked with Sam.

Sam's voice was gentle as he brought his head forward and leaned it against Dean's lightly, the way Dean used to do to him. Dean scrunched his nose like he was pained by the gesture, but he didn't pull away. "I told you already, you're still my big brother, no matter what...and I need you with me on this, okay...?" _I'm here, Dean..._ he willed his brother to get that message through his thick skull.

Dean hesitated and then he flashed Sam a weak, brief smile as he set his hand on Sam's shoulder in turn and gave it a little squeeze back. "Yeah? ...Okay, Sammy." and then he scrunched his nose again as he pulled his head and hand away and added- "If you tell anyone about what just happened-"

"-Yeah, yeah. I'm dead meat. I know." Sam smiled back at his brother and he saw relief creep into his brother's expression, and he knew that it had to do with reassuring Dean of his place as the big brother between them more than with anyone knowing about the minor chick-flick moment that they'd just had. As if anyone would care anyway.

Sam released his grip on Dean's shoulder and Dean sat back as he absently rubbed said shoulder and then regarded the pile of clothes on the table. He wasn't small enough for the Batman shirt-and hopefully he wouldn't be soon, either-but he did need to get changed. And both he and Sam needed showers.

Sam seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he said. "After Dad gets out, you can take a shower first. You stink." he teased his brother lightly.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, 'cause you smell like a rose, bitch."

"Thanks for noticing, jerk." Sam retorted 'sweetly', and Dean and Sam shared a pair of amused, fond looks before the bathroom door opened to reveal a cleaned, shaved, and decidedly still exhausted looking John.

"You okay, Dad?" Dean ventured to ask, his tone youthfully concerned.

Sam had meant what he said, and Dean was definitely still his big brother, but that didn't stop him from wanting to grab his brother up and just...hold on to him. Seeing his brother in his current, vulnerable state was just...too much.

"I'm fine." John said gruffly. "You two remember anything?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a _whoops_ glance, they'd been a little distracted. Dean answered for the pair of them. "Nothing...sorry."

John eyed his sons a moment, and noted the calmer air between the two before he waved a dismissive hand. "I'll put in a few calls and see what I can find. You check the computer at all?" Computers had finally gotten to be at least somewhat decent, and while he was still trying to figure them out a bit better, Sam-he knew-was pretty good with 'em. Dean didn't seem to care much either way. But there were some of those websites and things that had some information, scrambled though it was.

Sam and Dean hadn't thought to look there while at the library though, and the pair shooks their heads simaltaneously.

"I'll go take a look." Sam offered.

"Not alone." Dean growled, and Sam sighed.

"He can go alone." John said suddenly, surprising them alone. "We need the research done and I need you with me in case anyone has a quick-fix." he doubted it, but there it was.

Sam looked thrilled, but Dean looked displeased. "No way! Last time Sam went out alone, look what happened-"

John shot Dean a stern look and he trailed off. _Whose fault was that?_ went unasked, but Dean could see the rhetoric question in his father's expression and he winced. "Sam can handle himself, for right now, you're the one that needs to be with one of us at all times."

Dean's eyes widened and Sam looked surprised his father had said it, but not like he disagreed. "_What_-"

"-It's not up for debate, Dean. You're physically a child," he said bluntly, "You have all the knowledge of a hunter, but it won't do you any good like that. Sam's sharp, and his reflexes shouldn't be changed too much just because he's grown. So he can go out alone for a little while. You don't get that option right now."

"So what? When you leave, Sam's supposed to babysit me?" Dean rarely gave his father attitude, but this was upsetting every aspect of his being.

"If you want to put it that way." John replied back coolly, and Sam shot his father a faintly irriated look. Great, now he was the bad guy because Dean wanted to be difficult about this. It made sense. Dean couldn't be left alone as he was. Period. John addressed Sam. "You can still use a gun, right?"

"I think so." It might take a little getting used to, the different mechanics of an older body, but he was still well-trained and confident that he could handle himself if need be.

"Sam! You aren't going out alone!" Dean snapped.

It was Sam's turn to ignore Dean, albeit guiltily, as John nodded. "Alright. For now, Dean'll be with me, if we don't find anything when you get back-I'm going out. You don't let Dean out of your sight, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir." Sam said, dutifully for once and Dean looked both outraged and betrayed.

"You can't be serious!"

"Dean." John's voice was sharp. "Discussion's over. Sam, do what you need to and then get going."

Dean stiffened at John's tone as years of ingrained obedience warred with his offense at the whole damned situation. He grabbed Sam's sleeve in his small hand and glared at him. "Sam!" his voice was childishly insistent now.

Sam gave his brother an apologetic glance as he removed Dean's hand from his sleeve. "I'll be fine, if anything happens, I'll call, okay? The sooner we get this fixed, the better, right?"

Dean's jaw clenched and he looked frustrated. "It's _not_ okay. You're gonna get hurt!" Dean shouted, and he grabbed the bottom of Sam's shirt this time, as though determined to keep going until he got his way and forced Sam to stay.

A new concern found it's way into Sam as he realized the onset of 'age-appropriate' behavior. Dean was seven now, and Dean always being old for his age or not, a kid was still a kid. And with John being the way he was...he wasn't going to be patient in defusing Dean like Sam had been. John was going to get impatient quickly, because he wouldn't understand. Telling him would feel like a betrayal though, because he knew how much John's opinion meant to Dean and being patronized by John would crush his brother. It was a catch-twenty-two.

"I won't, Dean. I promise." Sam said gently, and John's brow furrowed slightly. Sam suspected that Dean's abrupt defiance and outburst had struck him as strange too, even if he hadn't guessed at the reason.

Dean scowled. "You aren't going alone." he repeated.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, Dean, I am. Sorry." he removed Dean's hands again and rose from the bed. Dean started after him, but he pushed the boy back down firmly. "Dean. You're not coming, you heard Dad."

"Like you care what Dad says! I'm fine!" Dean shouted.

"Dean! _Listen_ to yourself!" Sam was getting frustrated now. He wasn't angry at Dean, he was aching for his brother, and the helplessness of the situation ate at him. "You're not...yourself." he alluded to Dean's predicament and he saw Dean glare before understanding seemed to dawn and some of the anger drained away to be replaced by that miserable expression again. Dean seemed to mentally review what he'd just said and done, and come up with the fact that yes, he was not 'fine'.

Dean seemed to deflate before his eyes and he stared morosely up at Sam before he mumbled. "I don't like this." Sam wasn't sure if he specifically meant the situation, or Sam leaving, but either way he brought his hand to Dean's head and let it rest there. And surprisingly, Dean allowed it and simply looked up at Sam as if awaiting some reassurance.

If that wasn't a sign of Dean being...different. He wasn't sure what was.

Sam brushed his thumb over Dean's head and ignored the feeling of John's eyes on him as he said softly. "I know, Dean. But I'll be back soon, okay? I'll be careful."

"Promise?" Dean's sudden, odd reply surprised them all and Sam remembered the dream he'd had only that morning with a clench in his chest. He fought to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat as he forced himself to speak evenly.

"Yeah, Dean. I promise."

Dean didn't look satisfied, but he at least looked mollified as he lifted a hand to give Sam's wrist a tight squeeze and then ducked his head away. "Hurry up already. Godzilla. Take a shower first though, 'cause you're the one that stinks."

Sam offered his brother a smile that was entirely forced as he moved away. "Yeah, yeah.." The moment his back was turned to Dean, whose eyes he could still feel on him, his smile fell and he met John's gaze with a frown. John, who was watching Sam with a look he didn't recognize, and a grim expression.

...

Dean had reluctantly remained inside as John accompanied Sam out, sometime after he'd gotten showered and had some of the meager fare available for breakfast. He'd brought his I.D. and some cash, and John had given him the cell phone just in case.

Sam and John stood silently a moment before his father spoke and Sam turned to look slightly down at the other.

"What was that about?"

Sam knew that Dean would hate Sam mentioning it, but there was no choice, especially if Dean was going to be left alone with John. "...It's not for sure, but it's pretty sure..." What was the best way to put this? "The younger Dean's gotten, the more...young he's acted. Acting his age, I guess...it's just been little stuff, really...what happened just now was the worst it's been." Practically a tantrum. Furthermore, it was odd, because to his memory...when had Dean ever dared to talk to John that way? He supposed that it had something to do with Dean's adult mind reacting with the childish emotions. The two were probably clashing hardcore inside of him.

John's eyes widened slightly and then he cursed under his breath. He considered Sam's words a moment before he met Sam's gaze again, firmly. "I meant it. He needs to be with one of us at all times. If he gets too hard to handle, knock him out."

"Dad!" Sam hissed, not liking that suggestion.

"I mean, it Sam. He could hurt himself doing something stupid. You want that?"

Sam's arguments died at that logic, and he was forced to admit that knocking Dean unconscious would be better than letting him try anything, if it got to that point. "If this...keeps up...will it get worse? I mean...he won't...forget will he?" Sam asked hesitantly.

John's grim expression didn't ease his fears. "It's possible." No sugar-coating with John Winchester, that was what he believed. But as he saw Sam's expression fall, he couldn't help but add- "We won't let it happen though. Whatever did this is going to be hunted and dealt with, and you and Dean'll be fine." It wasn't a lie, because he fully intended to make it happen.

John tried not to dwell on how strange it was to see Sam like this, or how hard it had been not to treat Dean more like a child. How hard it was to treat the man standing before him like his youngest boy. It was more than appearances, it was the whole package. Dean kept insisting that Sam wasn't ready, even though John disagreed. But he'd allowed it because Dean was just fine as a partner, and he wanted Sam safe too.

But right now, there was no alternative, and there was no denying that he was fairly certain of Sam's abilities as a hunter.

And there was no denying that, truth be told, he didn't want to let _either_ of his boys out of his sight.

But, there was no alternative, so yet again his sons were going to have face a problem that was entirely unfair. And John couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"You be careful, Sam. Call if _anything_ comes up, understand?"

"Got it, Dad." he said, instead of 'yes, sir'. Because Sam thought that maybe, behind the stern tones, his father was a little freaked out just like he and Dean were, and because he didn't like that John kept looking at him like couldn't quite decide whether to punch him or embrace him. Dean was recognized as his son, but seeing a stranger with his little boy inside, it was probably a different matter than seeing the boy he'd raised. "...If Dean does something, it's not his fault, he's not himself right now." Sam added, worried about what might happen in his absence.

"I know." John said gruffly. "Get going." he paused and then gave his son's shoulder a squeeze, before he turned and headed back inside.

When the door opened, he could see a troubled-looking Dean jerk his head up, and frown at Sam.

Sam shot his older brother a reassuring smile, and Dean's expression tensed, as though Sam's smile just made him more anxious. But before he could do much else, the door was shut and Sam was alone, cut off from his brother and father for the moment. And yet, he felt oddly closer to them, tied to them by this strange turn of events and the sudden need that Dean had of him. The sudden dependence that had been inexplicably forced upon them. Funny how that worked out, even though the actual situation was anything _but_ funny.

Sam was terrified of the situation, of his position, of the reversal of roles suddenly being thrust upon him and truly, he wanted to be able to stand behind Dean on this and let him fix things. He'd taken Dean doing so for granted, and the absence of it now was painful. Being the older brother wasn't nearly as gratifying as he'd thought it would be. Just a few days in, and Sam was already an anxious damned wreck, and he couldn't even show it because he didn't want Dean to worry. Because he needed to shoulder the weight that Dean couldn't carry, weight he didn't want Dean to try to carry. Sam thought over even his recent behavior as far as berating his brother for coming to his aid, even as he'd turned and immediately done the same thing the first chance he'd gotten.

And Dean, the way he'd sounded and acted, like he thought that Sam might leave, or might not help...the fact that he'd given Dean that impression had pained and surprised him, but was it really all that surprising with how he'd acted lately?

Sam didn't have time to wallow in self-pity on the subject, or dwell on it, not while he had a job to do. But he allowed himself long enough to make a mental note to make it up to Dean somehow. Everything.

His big brother deserved that and more.

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**Angst, fluff, humor, Sam-enlightenment and being torn between loyalty to his big brother and his increased need to now protect him, Dean-regressing more and still desperate to be the big brother and take care of his Sammy...Poor tired John, and his gruff fatherly love...he's like the Grimm Brothers version of the Energizer Bunny...he just keeps going...all resigned by their duties, especially Sam, who has resigned himself to being big brother for a bit if it means keeping Dean safe and taken care of, and John passing Sam some of the responsibility XD So yeah, the younger Dean gets, the more the age difference affects him and such. Or something. XD And boy, oh, boy, do I have something perfectly horrible in store for Sam tonight. Although he won't think so, until he gets home to a pissed!John and worried!Dean. XD Dun dun dun. Let's just say Sam is going to take advantage of his I.D. somewhat unintentionally. Possibly Cas' first appearance will be next chapter, but we'll see. I really want Cas to get to cuddle a little Dean, but that's not really feasible, but I do have an idea for a scene between Cas and wee-Dean that is. XD I adore you all endlessly! Lurve, Witchy~ **


	8. Fatherhood Comes First

**So busy..so sleepy...but...must needs write...XD Those of you waiting for story posts: I have not abandoned ANY of my Supernatural or Pandora Hearts multi-fics, I am just quite busy and distracted and have been jumping from series-es. It's Xena Warrior Princess at the moment. And there's sleeping with sleeping pills...XD I digress. I am trying and such. Bear with me. And forgive me? XD**

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Silence reigned in the motel room as John shut the door, and it was a tense moment before he finally looked at his eldest son who seemed content to look at anything but his father. He didn't know what to say, or how best to handle the situation beyond doing everything he could to fix it. So he guessed that'd take priority: fix Dean, and then Dean would feel better. Two birds with one stone and all that. "I'm gonna make a few calls...I'll be right outside. Stay put." he said gruffly before he made good on his words and headed out for the Impala. He didn't want to talk in front of Dean at the moment and he didn't feel like being overheard outside either.

...

'Stay put'. Yeah, like Dean was going anywhere.

He didn't say a word, merely gave a mute nod as his father instructed him to do the only thing he seemed able to do at the moment anyway. Dean was stuck, in both body and in the fact that he was under house arrest. Motel arrest, whatever. And worse still, Sam was out on his own doing hunter research. Worry and outrage warred within him, he felt useless and vulnerable, and was ultimately irritated that he couldn't protect Sam. In fact, his father had practically ordered Sam to protect _him_. And in some ways, that made him more miserable than losing years ever could.

...

Forty minutes, several phone calls [and damn-did he hate having to call on other hunters], and one near miss of the phone being chucked out the car window resulted in a call to a certain hunter. By all accounts, it was the hunter John probably should have called first, but had tried to avoid if only because he was the only hunter who would even _think_ of calling John out. Except maybe Pastor Jim, [whom he had already tried to call], but that was different.

_"He's __**what**__?" _

"You heard me, Singer. Look, have you heard of anything like that? Ages...swapping?"

_"It's nothin' I've come across...damnit, John! How many times have I told you-" _

"-You wanna bitch at me, fine, but it'll have to wait until I fix my sons. So can you think of anything or not?" John interrupted brusquely.

There was silence on the other end for a brief moment and a heavy sigh before Bobby grumbled. "_I'll do some diggin', see what turns up. Meanwhile, don't let those boys outta yer sight. Y'hear me?_"

"I don't need you to tell me how to handle _my _boys. I got it covered, just see what you can find." And with that, John hung up abruptly.

...

Robert Singer, a.k.a. 'Bobby', cursed as the line clicked dead. "Damn bastard." he growled as he scratched his head and heaved another sigh. He had a feeling his work was going to be cut out for him on this one, but he'd do it and do it right. John's words had stung a bit, more than he ever cared to admit. Yeah, John might have been their father but damned if Bobby hadn't taken care of them better in some ways than John had ever bothered. He didn't treat 'em like the kids they were, he'd been treating them like hunters from practically day one. And sure, a kid oughta know how to take care of themselves, but that didn't mean that they should actually _have_ to. As far as Dean, Hell, he probably did more 'fatherly' crap for Sam than John and Bobby put together. He tried though, whenever John left them his care, he tried to give them a little something more than hunting and drills. They were pains in the ass, but they sure did give his isolated lifestyle a much-needed pick-me up... And to him, they were-

-Well, it didn't matter. Bobby was there if they needed him, he didn't need anything else. No need to get sentimental over babysittin' a couple of rugrats anyway.

His rugrats, though. Bobby had that, at least.

...

The sigh bug was catching as John slunk down in the driver's seat a moment and allowed himself to try and wrap his head around the situation. How the Hell had this happened? One minute, he'd been hunting a witch and the next, he'd come to find his sons had been the victims of...well, Hell if he knew. What was the angle in all of this? Swapping their ages was a pain in the ass, sure, but what would it actually get any supernatural baddie? Worrying the crap out of him? Freaking his sons out? A distraction? What was the point? And worse, he couldn't think of a damn thing with the kind of power something like this would take to pull off. There wasn't a single clue, no symbols, no sighting, no weird weather. Just an out of the blue attack on his sons. That was unacceptable.

He caught movement from his peripherals and noted the flutter of the motel window curtains. Dean was probably more anxious than he was, and he couldn't blame him. John hefted himself up and out. He'd done more than his fair share of calling for now: the less people knew about him and his boys, and the situation, the better.

John locked the Impala and headed inside in time to see Dean having just barely scrambled onto the bed in an attempt to look casual. "How are you feeling?" he asked gruffly.

Dean seemed surprised at first by the question before he forced a thin smile. "I feel alright. I'm not hurt or anything."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Silence, decidedly awkward descended between them and John cursed himself mentally. He knew he wouldn't have anything comforting to offer; he'd already reassured Dean about fixing him. John could bandage wounds and set broken bones, and he could damn sure teach his sons to survive but when it came to the mushy stuff, well...he was a bit out of practice. And Dean was a man for crying out loud. Damnit all-

"Are you sure Sam'll be okay...?"

John blinked as Dean's voice, uncharacteristically quiet and uncertain, so damned much like the child he appeared to be, filled his ears. He hesitated slightly before he replied. "He knows how to handle himself. And if he runs into any trouble, we'll have it covered, right?"

"...Yeah, we'll have it covered." Dean agreed but his heart wasn't in it. John got the feeling that Dean didn't think much of his skills at the moment, and John admittedly didn't either. Still...

"Sam can take care of himself, alright? Better late than never to let him try, anyway. He's been nagging at me about it enough." The wry attempt at humor to cheer Dean's humor fell flat when Dean looked stricken at the first few words. John guessed he hadn't though that through. Telling an overprotective big brother that his little brother was fine on his own wasn't exactly...tactful. Still, it wasn't until he noticed Dean's small form quiver and saw him swallow hard as he ducked his head that he realized his words might have bothered the already tense Dean more than he'd realized. "Dean? ...Damnit, Dean..."

And just like that, suppressed fatherly instincts kicked in and he found himself seated beside Dean as he set a hand on the other's small shoulder and squeezed it firmly as he ordered. "Keep it together, this is nothing we can't handle." But when Dean only seemed to wince lightly and nod in reply, he let his arm slip around his son's small form and tug him close in a one-armed hug. He just couldn't leave him sitting there, like he was about to cry or something. And he guessed maybe he could baby his son a little, given the circumstances. The kid was in his own personal Hell, in a manner of speaking, so John supposed he could more than forgive any 'weakness' on Dean's part...and any answering weakness on his own.

Dean's eyes jerked up towards him, startled, and John found the reaction more than a little annoying. Sure, maybe he wasn't the most lovey dubby father, but he didn't have to act like it was such a big deal for a little hug. It wasn't a big deal...was it?

"He'll be fine, Dean. We trained him, remember? And we'll fix you both soon." John murmured as he used his free hand to ruffle his son's hair lightly. He knew he shouldn't encourage the child aspects that were currently pushing at his son's adult self, but he looked so damned _vulnerable_...John couldn't help himself, and for the moment, it was the best he could offer.

And from the look on Dean's face, the little smile and those grateful, hero-worshipping green eyes looking up at him all trusting, the way he seemed to eat up the attention and the hug and lean against him...well...

Maybe it was enough.

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***a couple of days after I started this* I know it's been way too long and this is way too short to redeem me...but it was either post this snippet tonight, or...find out how long it would take to post up all of the intended Sam-interactions, John/Dean/Bobby interactions for the day as I'd originally planned...but I thought it made a decent ending point though, a bit of Dean/John fluff...John doesn't know what the Hell to do but his son's just so vulnerable and kiddish his daddy instincts are kicking in whether he likes it or not...and Dean's like 'Dad's hugging me, best day ever!' Or something. XD Ah, someone guessed Sam was going to have a run in with alcohol. They guessed correctly. Sam' shall be in the next post. I digress! Thank you for reading, reviewing, and [may I be so bold as to hope] that you'll forgive my absence and slowness in lieu of my body rejecting my attempts to pull all nighters for story-writing these days? XD I adore you all! Happy new years! And I'm officially twenty as of Jan 7th, whee! XD~ **


	9. That Old White Magick and Lillies

**Yet another long overdue post...it's hard to get back into the groove of things when I don't even remember my immediate plans...but I think I do now...hopefully. XD I digress. Here goes nothing! **

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Night had fallen in the sleepy little town of Ashbury, but Sam was no closer to finding an answer or cure than when he'd began. The internet didn't have the plethora of research information that he had hoped to find, and the library itself had little to offer by way of occult study information. The town was, for all accounts, just a sleepy peace of small-town paradise. He'd found some information on topics of reincarnation in relation becoming a child again, useless therapy books for self-help, and information tantamount to idle witchcraft as the cause. Basically, he'd found nothing of help whatsoever and felt actually less informed than when had he begun. But, Sam recalled, his father had mentioned something about having been hunting a witch. John had ganked her though, and that had been in another area entirely, so it had to be unrelated. Besides, could a witch really even do that?

The library dinged for it's eight p.m. closing time and a disheartened Sam left to make his way back to the motel. He'd have to report a failure, and as much as John's disappointment might bother him, it was having to face his little big brother that made his heart clench. _ Sorry, Dean_...he thought morosely.

A sudden collision with another surface startled him and he found himself looking down at a pretty, light-haired brunette. She had bright green eyes and a wave of curls, and a smattering of freckles on her fair skin. There was something about her that stood out to him, but he couldn't place it. "O-oh! I'm sorry! I wasn't paying attention, sorry about that." Sam mumbled quickly as he grimaced at his own carelessness.

The woman, in her early twenties, smiled and didn't seem bothered. "Dun'mind it. Happens often enough."

Sam noted she had a bit of an accent as well, was that Irish, or Scottish? And why did it seem oddly familiar as well? "Yeah..." he replied distractedly.

The woman lifted a brow before she started to edge past. "I'd best be going, see'ya around, stranger." She paused as she considered something. "Or, were ya planning on coming in?"

Sam blinked at her, not understanding until she motioned overhead. A wooden sign that read '_The Whistler_' was hung overhead, and he realized that it was some kind of a bar. But why would she be asking him that, he wasn't of age, "I'm not-" _oh wait_...Sam glanced down at his hands and recalled the wallet in his pocket with his new I.D. "I wasn't." he answered without thought of the possible implication, it wasn't as if he'd had much experience with flirting, especially with _women_.

The woman's smile widened. "Is that right? But y'are now? Well then, my name's Lillian, but my pals call me 'Lily'. How about yer name, stranger?"

"I-It's Sam." Sam realized that he'd made a mistake somewhere, and he couldn't let it go on because he needed to get back to Dean and their father, but before he knew it he found himself walking in after her.

"Well, I-It's Sam, nice to meetcha." Lily chuckled and Sam swallowed hard as he felt the sudden warmth of a flush on his cheeks. She sat down at the bar and he did likewise. "What's yer poison?"

"M-My what?" Sam could feel his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Embarassment and confusion, mingled with excitement and anxiety, whirled up within him. This wasn't okay, he needed to go, he was going to be in _so_ much trouble-

"Two whiskeys, aye?" Lily ordered as she eyed Sam. "Best make it a double for'im. He's a bit shaky."

The bartender eyed Sam with obvious distaste, carded the pair, and then headed to his tools.

Sam realized she'd ordered him a drink and he held up his hands as if in surrender. "I can't drink, I mean...I shouldn't. But thank you, really. Sorry if I seem 'shaky', it's just been...a long day." he explained. "I should really get going, sorry to trouble you-"

Lily clapped a hand on his back with a laugh. "No trouble at'all! Relax, pal. A wee drink won't hurt'cha."

Sam stilled momentarily as something tugged at his memory at those words. There was something dancing just beyond his recollection, something important, something that he needed to remember...

The drinks were set down with a _clink_ against the metal bar top and Sam blinked down at the drink. There was something distinctly intimidating about the brown liquid before him. He recalled occasions of his father drinking [although usually straight from the bottle], and he'd determined young that he wasn't going to be interested in that sort of thing.

"You seem depressed, Sam, buddy. Have a drink. As they say, 'What whiskey cannot cure, there is no cure for'." Lily held up her glass. "Cheers." Lily offered Sam an encouraging smile.

Sam wasn't sure what was going on. Were older women always this nice, did she think he was cute or something? Lily was being awfully friendly and hadn't his father warned him about that sort of thing? But then, she didn't set him on alert or anything, if anything, she made him feel...feel...how could he describe it? There was something nostalgic about it and though he had no genuine memories of her, he felt that she reminded him...of his mother.

The thought put a sharp pang in his heart and he must have let the pain show on his face because he found his drink slipped gently into his hand as a warm pair of fingers clasped around it. Lily tilted to be in view of Sam's lowered gaze. "Life's too short, am I right? Smile for me, Sammy."

"Only Dean calls me that." Sam replied automatically, and then he flushed again as Lily smirked.

"Oh ho! So there's a bit of spunk in you yet. Well, then." she lifted her glass again. "Give us a toast, and tell me about your Dean. Cheers!"

Sam knew this had to be a terrible idea, but he found himself clinking his glass against hers anyway. "Cheers." And with that, he copied her example and took the drink down in a single gulp.

Immediately, Sam felt that he'd been tricked as he coughed and spluttered as the foul-tasting liquid burned down his throat like fire. "W-What did you d-do to me?"

Lily burst out laughing then, and through watery eyes and a hand clutching his stomach, Sam watched her with a dark frown. "First time, huh? Whiskey's got a kick to it, sorry about that. Double was a bit much, maybe."

Sam just stared at her, and Lily finally seemed apologetic as she handed him a glass of water from the table. Sam eyed it suspiciously before he gave in and chugged it down, relieved that it lessened the pain somewhat. "That...was horrible." he choked out.

Lily laughed again as she again clapped Sam on the back, and he stiffened slightly but allowed it. "Just wait for it to do it's magic, you'll feel better, trust me. Can't make'a promise fer the morning. But it'll get there. Now then, I think the topic was 'Dean'?"

"No...that's fine." Sam looked down at the table then as he toyed idly with the empty glass. And then his eyes widened. "I really gotta go, look, how much do I owe you?" Sam fumbled for his wallet and Lily put a hand on his wrist to stop him.

"It's on me if you give me, let's say...half an hour? You could use the talk, and I could use a companion." Lily ordered another round, a single for each this time, and Sam prayed she wasn't going to make him drink that one too.

But sure enough, against his better judgment, he found himself talking to her and drinking the next drink besides. He found that it didn't go down that much better the second time around, but he managed, and he told her about his life in the best terms that he could. Sam was careful to keep the hunter bits and magic parts out of it, alluding to his brother being badly injured rather than losing his age. The more he talked, he more he realized that he felt oddly loose and somewhat dizzy, and warm feeling had blossomed in his stomach. Lily listened to it all patiently, and by the end, Sam felt better just for the talking, let alone Lily's occasional bits of input. When it was all said and done, silence fell between the pair and Sam tried to let his thoughts work themselves out. But he tilted his gaze sideways as he heard a light sound beside him.

"_Tura lura lural...tura lura lie...tura lura lural...that's an Irish lullabye.._" Lily was singing softly, and the tune sounded almost painfully familiar.

"What...is that?"

"An old lullabye my grandmum sang to me. It helps me remember her, and makes me feel...better. Do you have something like that?"

Sam considered that a moment and while he had no grandparents to recall, no lullabyes from his mother or father, he could recall instances of being in the car with John and Dean as they belted out their classic rock tunes and Sam joined in sometimes despite himself. Did that count? Because certainly those memories made him feel...a little better. "You could say that.." he murmured before his situation was glaringly before him again. "I just don't know what to do...I just...I'd do anything to make him better..." Sam said morosely.

Lily considered that a moment before she set her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'm willing to bet you caring that much helps on it's own. He's lucky, havin' such a loving brother."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah right...I just get in his way...I keep arguing with him and making things harder for him...just because I'm the one who's...confused..."

"Doubtful. If y'did, he doesn't seem like the type who'd lie about it from what y'said. Sounds like he doesn't want'ya in the family business just because he's a loving fellow too. Whatever you do, he's by ya, isn't he? As for that father of yours, he trusted your brother and didn't push ya. That means he cares more for yer well-being than that business, aye? He's the gruff type is all."

Sam considered that as he watched Lily, fascinated by the way the light glinted off her hair and gave it an almost reddish and gold tint. Before he knew it, he'd lifted a hand to stroke it only to jerk back in surprise as he realized what he was doing. "S'rry, jus..." he coughed as he noted vaguely that he was slurring. Was this what being drunk was like?

Lily eyed him a moment before she leaned forward suddenly and pressed a kiss to his lips. The kiss tasted of the whiskey, and something sweetly warm like cinnamon, and the warmth of it filled Sam faster than the whiskey. As she drew away, he stared after her dreamily before he snapped to and put a hand to his lips with a blush. "That..."

Lily rose then as she set a few bills on the counter. "That's goodnight, pal. When the moon's up, I've got things to do. But you be careful on your way home, it's the week of Hallow's Eve. That's when Jack get up to his tricks."

"...Jack?"

Lily chuckled. "It's an old legend. Nothing to worry about."

"But-" Sam soon found himself led outside and Lily ran her fingers through his hair and ruffled it. Everything seemed to be happening too quickly, the actions seemed disjointed, almost dream-like themselves. Was that the alcohol? And why did Lily seem different? "Lily...I-"

"-That's the first time you've called me by my name!" Lily seemed pleased and beamed. "Yer a good lad, y'know that?"

Sam's confusion increased, because he was certain that he was missing something, and he needed to ask about Jack, and ah, he needed to get back to Dean and John...

"Bit of advice before I go..." she said as she slipped something into Sam's hand, but kept her hand over his so that he didn't look just yet. "Magic and strength aren't all about spells and power. Sometimes it's in here." Lily clapped her hand over Sam's heart then. "With that, anything can be a blessing." Lily leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and pulled away.

Sam stared at her before he glanced down to his hand and found a single lily there. "What-" but as he looked back up, she was gone. "Lily...?" But she was well and truly gone and Sam stood alone on the sidewalk with the lily in his hand. What had just happened? And why was his head spinning...?

Sam oriented himself as best he could as he began to trudge back towards the motel. He had to get back to them, he had to tell them about...about...what was it? Wasn't there a turnip...? And a song...and...and Jack? What was he missing?

Sam stumbled into the doorway of the motel and knocked a few times. One thing he knew with certainty as he tried unsuccessfully to straighten up and appear sober.

Dean and Dad were going to _kill_ him.

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**That didn't turn out quite as planned. Lily was supposed to be just a warm-hearted outsider who had knowledge of legends from her grandmother or whatnot. And then I had to rush through the scene a bit in the end to get the ball rolling properly...But this is an example of plans that go awry when I spend too long away and forget them. Ah well, it'll work. XD It'll give Bobby a chance to strut his stuff. But now comes the task of integrating all the other stuff in that you all don't know about yet...and Sam was supposed to be more comically drunk, but there's always next chapter. XD Verbal hugs bring joy to my life, enjoy! ~Witchy~ **


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